


The Sweetness of the Sting

by AM505



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blindfolds, Bondage, Boys Kissing, Breathplay, But also having raw sex, Challenges, Choking, Come Shot, Deepthroating, Dom/sub, DomOliver, Elio will do anything to please Oliver, EmotionalElio, EmotionalOliver, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, First Time Blow Jobs, Goodbye Sex, Goodbyes, Heartache, Homosexuality, Lovers, M/M, Making Love, Nosebleeds, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Outdoor Sex, Pining, Protective Oliver, Roma | Rome, Romance, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Size Difference, Strangulation, SubElio, Tied-UpElio, sexual favours
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-07 15:34:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13437834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AM505/pseuds/AM505
Summary: As soon as they arrived in Rome, they knew that they were on a countdown. Seven days and seven nights. That was all the time they had left before Oliver’s departure.“Rome,” Oliver said importantly on the first day of their arrival, “is our final chance to explore each other. In the city, we are alone. Free to do whatever we want. Your parents will never know. Do you realise what this means, love?”-Oliver and Elio take turns asking sexual favours from one another. Eager to learn from Oliver while they are still together, Elio finds himself ticking off a few firsts on his list. However, as they push each other's boundaries and explore their limits, Elio realises that when it comes to love, there is no joy without the pain.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic in the Call Me By Your Name fandom, so I've been dead nervous to upload this. I welcome all criticism, so feel free to post a comment :)
> 
> Though I aim to keep the plot as canon as possible, I also want to describe it as free-form, seeing as their holiday in Rome differs from the way things ended in the novel/ film. So prepare for an alternative, non-canon ending.
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)

As soon as they arrived in Rome, they knew that they were on a countdown. Seven days and seven nights. That was all the time they had left before Oliver’s departure. Before he was to be reclaimed by America (to Elio, big and uncharted) and removed from Italy’s easy idyll, its soothing warmth, its peacefulness, its nontoxic beauty. With Oliver’s departure, it seemed that these landscapes, however, would lose some of their gold. The magic would be broken. How could it not? 

In seven days, the summer would have ended. The sun would grow colder and Oliver would be long gone. For this reason, Elio knew that they both had to make the best of whatever time they had left. If he started to think about the inevitable separation, the approaching goodbyes, now, he would ruin it for himself too soon. Oliver was his for another seven days, and that was enough cause for celebration. After all, Elio should praise himself lucky to even have had him at all. Right? 

The city was so unlike the remote and quiet disposition of B., and of the scenery they had now left behind. While everything in B. appeared tranquil and secretive, as if owned by none other than them, the lovers, and eternity itself, the city was hectic and untamed. It’s was hot and sweaty. It was wonderful and hideous all at the same time. It was fun and it was exciting; it was brutal and it was unkind.

It was momentary. Though old, Rome was forever a-changing. For them, it was even quicker.

The city was raw and for this reason, Elio knew that Oliver and himself would have to toughen up. Their dynamics changed quickly in accordance with this new setting. Though they had both cherished their most innocent and tender moments together, their escape to the city would soon enough force them to grow up. It would force upon them a whole new meaning of sensuality, of need, of lust and of physical curiosity.

“Rome,” Oliver said importantly on the first day of their arrival, as they settled down in an out-doors café for a cold drink, “is our final chance to explore each other. In the city, we are alone. Free to do whatever we want. Your parents will never know. Do you realise what this means, love?”

At this, Elio offered him a cheeky laugh, shaking his head tauntingly at the older man’s serious tone. However, he was clueless and he knew it. And while he was clueless, much too young to understand, to predict, Oliver knew.

Oliver always knew.

 

XxX

 

They soon agreed to make the most of their time and so, seven days became seven last wishes. Or rather, seven favours that they would take turns asking of one another. Oliver would go first. Of course he would. Not just because he was older and knew what he was doing, but because he was so full of ideas when, in comparison, Elio was still looking for inspiration. 

“I have yet so much to learn,” he confided in Oliver, though he knew already. Oliver always knew. “It seems that seven days is not enough time.” 

When he feared that the taller, bigger, stronger man by his side would make jokes, Oliver merely appeased him. Reaching for his hand, Oliver let their fingers intertwine under the table, caressing and rubbing his thumb over Elio’s knuckles, letting him know that he, too, was distraught by the idea of a vicious countdown, of an hourglass being turned upside down for the last time, slowly catching up on them when, sadly, there was nowhere else to run.

“I already know which favour I’m going to ask of you tonight,” Oliver said, changing the subject as he hoped to lighten his young lover’s mood. “Are you ready to find out or do you prefer the surprise?” 

Elio shrugged his shoulders, trying his hardest not to pout. 

“Depends,” he uttered and forced a smile. “Does it require planning?”

“Good point,” Oliver responded, knitting his brow as he was suddenly in deep thought. “Yes, I think I better tell you. I might need your help if we’re going to make it work.” 

And he leaned in, whispering his idea into Elio’s ear, tickling him with his breath, causing the young boy to close his eyes shut, shuddering quietly with want, with excitement and longing. He longed to be alone with Oliver right there and then, to go back to their hotel room and leave the busy streets behind, although Oliver insisted on playing the most insatiable tourist, so in love with Rome’s architecture and art, its sounds, its smells and flavours. 

‘I know you love my build and shape more than any sculpture,’ Elio wished to tell him in an attempt to lure him back to privacy, ‘I know you love my sounds, my smell and my flavour more than anything you could possibly come across here.’

But instead, he waited patiently. 

That day, Elio took Oliver to all the museums and shops that he had heard the older man talk of. He showed him everything and more, making sure to bring back some of that magic, that fascination that had captured them both in B., spellbinding them to both their surroundings and each other. Only when the sun was setting and all the noises from the cars, the people, the day, were fading out, Oliver gave in to his own urgency. Elio was walking him through a park when, without giving him any warning, Oliver pushed the young boy up against the nearest tree and threw himself at him. Kissing Elio deeply and hungrily, Oliver’s hands began to tug at his hair and palm his jaw, raising Elio’s head to make their mouths meet, to make them lock. He felt himself growing hard instantly and while he rutted and grinded against the younger male desperately, Elio pushed against his chest, willing him to stop.

“Not here,” chuckled the dark-haired boy, though his devious smirk was enough to spur Oliver on. “It’s too public.”

“Then where?” Pleaded Oliver, pressing his body even closer up against Elio’s, trapping him. “Tell me and we’ll go. We’ll go there right now!”

“No we won’t,” Elio declined kindly as his hands went straight to Oliver’s face, almost clawing at him like a cat instead of caressing him and Oliver loved it, “first, you will take me to dinner somewhere. I’m starving. We’ve been out all day.”

“Out is where I want to be, remember,” Oliver purred in his ear, feeling him up, groping Elio so obscenely that, surely, people had to be turning their heads right about now, mistaking the American for a predator.

It was true that Oliver’s first wish had been to fuck Elio outdoors, which admittedly, would be rather hard to get away with in a big city such as Rome. It would have been so much easier back in B. where they could have crept further down the river, or hidden their bodies in the tall grass of one of the fields, or even snuck into the woods where it would be near-impossible to get caught. However, Elio was soon getting the feeling that Oliver wasn’t intending for his favours to be easily complied with.

Perhaps they weren’t favours at all. Perhaps they were challenges and perhaps Oliver was going to make them harder day by day. 

The city was raw and fierce, Elio reminded himself, and perhaps, so could Oliver be.

For that, Elio couldn’t wait. 

 

XxX 

 

They went for the obligatory pizza and pasta dishes at one of the usual, tourist-trap restaurants in the city centre, not too far from the Colosseum. After that, they went drinking. Diving in and out of bars, or any place whatsoever that would serve alcohol to Elio – a minor by one year only, though he looked even younger than that – without ID’ing him first, the two lovers found themselves laughing, singing and dancing until their sorrows were nearly forgotten. 

“Look, Oliver!” Elio cheered as they staggered out from one of the bars at 11pm, holding on to each other for balance and support. “The stars! Look at the stars!”

Though the stars had, of course, been much brighter, much bigger, back in B., it was the most beautiful evening sky that Elio could have asked for. It was perfect. It was romantic. It existed for him and Oliver alone, or at least tonight this was the case. He would have danced right under the beauty of it, right under the lights, too, as though the music in his head had started to fill the streets, inviting everyone to join in, but Oliver stopped him.

They didn’t have any more time to waste. 

“I would rather look at you,” Oliver told him truthfully, suddenly embracing the other and holding him close, firmly, wrapping Elio up in his strong arms. Elio snapped out of his drunken daydreaming, realising that what was before him – Oliver – was a thousand times more important than the stars. “Now,” Oliver continued, giggling with endearment as he watched the look of excitement in the boy’s eyes, “here we are. Outdoors…”

“Yes, Master,” Elio joked cheekily, acting like he was a genie, a spirit of Arabian folklore, who’s only purpose was to tend to the favour that Oliver had asked him, “your wish is my command.”

The boy stood on his tippy-toes, pressing his lips against Oliver’s, though in his intoxicated state, he soon grew impatient and mischievous. Stretching out his tongue to lick at the blond man’s nose playfully, he looked Oliver in the eyes challengingly, silently daring him to step up his game. 

Which Oliver did.

He practically scooped Elio up into his arms and carried him off the open street by slinging the skinny boy over his shoulder. It was easy for him. It was like Elio was merely a cat, or a sack of potatoes. But then again, Elio didn’t struggle. He allowed Oliver to run off with him.

‘Yes,’ Elio thought to himself, smiling blissfully as he felt Oliver’s strong arm holding on to him, keeping him place, ‘take me, Oliver. Take me with you! Anywhere you want…’ 

Oliver brought the two of them into a deserted alleyway. Elio didn’t realise until, just as easily as he’d put him up on his shoulder, Oliver lowered him back unto the ground without letting go. Elio took a look around him. Apart from some old bins and the moon shining down at them from above, they were all alone. 

“What do you think, love?” Oliver asked him tenderly, already leaning in to seduce him.

“It’s perfect,” Elio chuckled and suddenly, he couldn’t help but to voice his thoughts. “Take me, Oliver. Take me, take me, take me!”

Oliver didn’t hesitate. The bigger man responded by pressing Elio up against the nearest wall, driving himself into him like the horny teenager that he’d been five years ago. Elio, small and submissive, gasped when his back smacked against cold bricks. But then, Oliver was on him and he no longer had a care in the world. The night was growing cooler, but Oliver was burning hot as he pressed his skin against Elio’s. 

Elio was practically melting like butter in between his hands.

 

XxX 

 

Oliver had him pinned against the wall still, with Elio’s legs wrapped around Oliver’s hips and Oliver’s hands lifting underneath Elio’s thighs, when Elio got the feeling that they were being watched from afar. Oliver was so deep inside of him by that point, though; he couldn’t tear himself away. He was unable, unwilling to let go. To break the high that Oliver was chasing so relentlessly. 

“Oli…ver…” He heard himself panting, though his voice was barely beyond a whisper. He was torn between warning his lover and simply letting the eyes roll back in his head as Oliver thrusted into him even harder. “Ol – Oliver,” he sighed, clawing at the blond man’s back, feeling nothing but taut, delicious muscle. It was getting so hard to think. So hard to care. “Behind you…” Elio grunted, throwing his head back against the wall when a particularly mean thrust bruised against and assaulted his prostate. “O-oh God…”

Oliver smirked and took the other’s half-hearted protests as nothing but delirious, passionate moaning. Driving himself into the smaller boy using all the force that he could muster, he slammed their bodies together determinedly, feeling his climax approaching fast. After that, he felt Elio giving into him instantly, surrendering to Oliver’s every touch and penetration, uttering only a sharp cry as he wrapped his skinny arms around his lover’s neck, clinging to him like he was small and helpless.

“You love my cock,” Oliver groaned tauntingly, feeling Elio shuddering in his arms, “you can’t get enough, can you? Say you can’t get enough, baby.”

Before Elio was given the chance, Oliver bit into his neck, hard, making the boy scream and howl for him instead. It pushed Oliver over the edge immediately. Falling into his young lover as he semi-collapsed, he came with an extended groan, screwing up his face in concentration while he slammed into Elio’s tight hole one final time. He was so deep inside when he spilled his seeds, releasing himself – them both – so heavenly. 

“Oh, Elio – Elio!” He groaned as he relaxed his jaw and let go of the other’s neck, scraping his teeth along soft skin teasingly, just hard enough to draw a bit of blood. Oliver felt himself shaking, fearing that he might drop the younger man.

That was when Elio let go and jumped out of his grip voluntarily. As he slid down Oliver’s body, graceful and agile as a cat, before Oliver had even pulled out of him, he landed on his feet with a small hiss and returned to looking over Oliver’s shoulder with caution. 

“Oliver!” He rasped, pulling up his underwear and shorts with urgency.

“What is it?” The tall, blond man asked with rapid concern, sensing Elio’s distress. (Certainly, Elio never used to pull away from him this quickly). “Elio-“

“Behind you,” repeated the beautiful, wide-eyed boy that Oliver was now towering over. “Oliver, we’re not alone.” 

He spoke matter-of-factly, sounding more embarrassed than worried. Still, it was enough to cause Oliver to spin around immediately as he felt caught up in a potential emergency. 

The man stood behind them was older, perhaps in his fifties. He was big, though not very tall. Judging from his tan, his watch, his jewellery, his designer outfit, he was obviously moneyed. Italian. Fascinated by what he had just witnessed.

Oliver caught the stranger eyeing Elio lustfully and he decided to react with anger in order to scare him off.

“Go away!” He yelled with offense, motioning for the creep to turn around and leave the alleyway. “What the fuck are you looking at? Leave us alone!” 

Elio was hiding himself behind Oliver’s broad shoulders, though with Oliver by his side, he wasn’t afraid. He knew that he could step out and face the stranger if he wanted to and he wouldn’t get hurt. He just didn’t want to face him. He didn’t want to be observed by someone so foul, so rude – so unlike Oliver. 

Oliver had only ever had the purest of intentions, whereas this guy clearly didn’t. Oliver was his hero. He belonged to Oliver. Only Oliver should be eyeing him like this. 

However, Oliver didn’t manage to scare him away that easily. On the contrary, he was now taking a step closer towards them. 

“Prostituta… Puttana…” He spoke, gesturing with his hands towards Elio, addressing him as though he was a female. A whore. A bitch. 

“Excuse me?!” Oliver thundered, removing himself from Elio to face the stranger and stare him down. “What did you just call him?”

Suddenly exposed, Elio pressed himself up against the wall, fastening his belt quickly as he made sure to tuck away his nudity. The man was once again watching him with delight, practically licking his lips, but when Elio realised that Oliver’s trousers were still pulled down to his ankles, all the young boy wanted to do was laugh. 

“Sorry,” the Italian rambled, taking note of Oliver’s American accent, “Americano…” He smiled, waving his hands again. “Is okay, is okay. I have money.” He then pointed his finger at Elio. “Beautiful boy, beautiful boy,” he said excitedly, nodding his head. “You sell, I buy. How much? I pay for him.”

“What?” Oliver exclaimed, sounding scandalised. Elio could barely contain his laughter. “Get the fuck out of here before I call the police!” 

“No, no,” the man responded quickly, finally taking a step back. “No police. Is okay. How much money? I buy him, just for tonight. Beautiful boy good fuck, yeah? How much?”

Before Oliver was able to threaten him again, Elio hollered:

“Ten thousand dollars!” He burst out laughing immediately. “Pagami in contanti, per favore.”

Pay me in cash, please.

Oh, he had the nerve.

Oliver spun around to give his lover a perplexed look.

“Elio,” he gasped with horror, “what the fuck…”

The stranger stepped closer, perhaps to negotiate Elio’s offer, or perhaps to blame him for making jokes, and Elio produced a small scream as he dodged the creep, laughing fiercely as he gripped Oliver’s arm and pulled at him.

“Run!” He cried, tugging harder when Oliver seemed frozen and nailed to the ground. “Oliver, run!”

Oliver finally did run, though with his trousers wrapped around his ankles, this wasn’t an easy job to do. Elio was seized by another laughing fit, though he forced himself to keep going instead of doubling over. Oliver let go of his hand in order to pull up his trousers frantically, fearing that he, otherwise, might get arrested for public indecency. Back in America, at least, he would never have been able to pull this off. 

The two of them ran until they were at least three streets away, and only when Elio led them down another passageway did they stop. Out of breath and stunned by what had just happened, Oliver fell against the brick wall, panting. Elio was still laughing as he came over to him and started to nuzzle into his side, begging to be embraced.

“Fucking hell,” Oliver uttered, pulling Elio close by wrapping his arms around his waist. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

“What? I could have earned us some quick cash,” the boy joked, wrapping his arms around Oliver’s neck. 

“You could have been… assaulted.” Oliver pulled a face, sickened with this notion. “Or worse.”

“Oliver, it was just a drunk man,” Elio giggled, though he loved the way that the older man showed his concern for him. “I’m fine. I’m yours, remember? Do you think I would ever let him get a piece of this ass? No!”

“Good!” Oliver breathed heavily, pulling Elio closer. “I – I would never let anything happen to you, Elio. You know that, right?” 

“I’m yours,” Elio simply repeated. Partly because it was true and he wanted Oliver to realise this. Even when Oliver was back in America, Elio would still be his and he would never want to be with any other people ever again, boy or girl, man or woman. And partly because, evidently, these words were forever spurring the older man on, causing him to smile.

“You’re mine,” Oliver confirmed, wrapping a fist into Elio’s dark curls possessively, “tell me, baby. Do you really think you’re only worth ten grand?”

Oliver brought his forehead down and pressed it against the other’s. 

“How much do you think I’m worth?” Elio quizzed him with genuine curiosity, relaxing against the American. 

They were looking each other in the eyes deeply, sharing a heartfelt moment.

“I think you’re priceless,” Oliver whispered, pecking at Elio’s lips gingerly. “Come here.” 

Oliver swapped positions with him so that Elio was up against the wall. 

“Oliver…” he whispered back and instantly, Oliver knew what he was asking. 

He kissed him slowly and softly at first. Then passionately and assertively. Not long after that, they found themselves biting and nibbling at each other’s lips while their tongues fought for dominance.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Two: Elio makes a request that suits Oliver perfectly. 
> 
> However, at the same time, Elio's sadness is beginning to show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was already written so I thought I might as well upload it!
> 
> Again, thank you so much for reading :)

The following day, they were out again only to return to their hotel room after dark. It had been a blazing hot day and as the two lovers stepped out from the shower together, having washed off the sweat from their bodies, Oliver looked over at Elio as a thought occurred to him.

“Last night,” he began, watching Elio wrap his skinny body up in a big towel, “what would you have done if you had been on your own? If I wasn’t there?”

Elio spun around, eyeing Oliver curiously. 

“What do you mean?” He asked innocently, unbothered. “I don’t think I understand.” 

“That man,” Oliver elaborated gravely, fastening his own towel around his waist, “that… stranger. I can’t get it out of my head. If you had been out there on your own, Elio, he could have attacked you. Or worse.” 

“Or worse? You keep saying that – ‘or worse’,” Elio mimicked him, “what is that supposed to mean?”

“Elio, he could have…” Oliver hesitated, struggling to even finish his sentence. “He could have raped you. I saw the way that he was looking at you. He was like a predator.”

Oliver was deadly serious, however, the young boy was less concerned. 

“Don’t worry, you are the only predator that I would ever hand myself over to.” He winked and smiled, walking towards the double bed flirtatiously. 

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Oliver corrected him. “If he had forced himself upon you, how could you possibly have stopped him? He could have hurt you.”

“But he didn’t. He didn’t try and even if he had, he wouldn’t have been able to,” Elio reasoned naively, shrugging his shoulders, “besides, he only offered to ‘buy’ me because he saw us having sex in that alleyway.” The memory of it all had him laughing again. “He probably took you for some rich American who had just bought himself a nice, Italian souvenir.” 

“Elio, that’s not funny. I don’t care what he thought or not. The threat was real. He tried to take advantage of you.”

“Good thing I ran, then.” Elio exhaled tiredly, surprised with Oliver’s relentlessness. “Okay, fine – look, you don’t have to worry about me. I can take care of myself. When you go back to the States, I will be fine. Heartbroken, but fine.”

The boy averted his eyes as he had to suppress the emotion that had suddenly welled up in him. Oliver saw.

“I thought we had agreed not to talk about my departure just yet,” Oliver sighed, regretting the fact that he couldn’t offer the other any comfort, any consolation. “Look, we still have five days together, don’t we? And we still have tonight. Elio, I – I just want you to be alright. With and without me.”

Oliver approached the other fast and as he threw his arms around his lover, Elio cursed himself for acting so pathetic. He had gone and made Oliver worry even more about him. 

“I promise I can look out for myself,” Elio huffed, forcing a woeful smile. “I won’t let any strangers run off with me. I was fine before you, wasn’t I?” 

“Yeah, but you’re too cute for your own good,” Oliver whispered in his ear, trailing his hands down Elio’s body. “You’re too pretty. Others might be tempted by you. They might think they can’t help themselves when you’re around.” 

“Look, if you’re so worried about me, then don’t go! Don’t leave me behind!”

Elio froze at his own outburst. He hadn’t meant to say what he just said. It seemed to have come out of nowhere – or from a place he didn’t realise he had been carrying deep within himself.

Oliver, it appeared, was equally shocked. 

“Elio,” he spoke sternly, removing his hands from the boy, “I have to go back. You know that. We’ve been over this.”

“I know, I know,” whimpered the other apologetically, wishing he could have eaten his own words, “Oliver, I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.”

“Well, how can I?”

“I don’t know, it’s just – I didn’t mean it like that. I swear.”

Elio felt terrified when, for several moments, Oliver couldn’t even look at him. He thought he’d ruined everything. He feared Oliver would resent him now.

“Before I go,” Oliver said after what seemed like an eternity, “I ought to give you a lesson in self-defence. We wouldn’t want anyone to jump you when you’re alone, would we?”

Suddenly, Elio was tackled and thrown down on top of the bed and in that very same instant, Oliver jumped on him, pinning the smaller body down on his back using all his body weight. 

“There,” Oliver breathed heavily into Elio’s face, flattening himself out on top of him and holding down both of his wrists in order to disarm him, “you’ve been jumped. Tell me, Elio… How are you going to escape?” 

Elio wriggled and moaned instantly, only wanting Oliver to remain where he was. The way their bodies were rubbing together was slowly driving him crazy and he wanted more. He wanted to feel every inch of Oliver on him, against him, he wanted Oliver to trap him, to play with him, to use him until he was raw and more than just spent…

“Elio, come on!” Oliver urged him, tightening his grip around the other’s wrists. “You said you could fend for yourself. Now, show me! How are you going to escape?”

Elio writhed and squirmed again, feeling the growing hardness of Oliver’s crotch brushing over him and poking against his belly. When he, half-heartedly, attempted to thrash and throw the bigger man off him, Oliver was quick to cling on, to press him down against the mattress even more firmly. Oliver’s towel loosened itself from his hips and fell off him in the middle of the act and Elio was glad, so fucking pleased with himself for not being able to shake him off. 

Oliver could have him pinned down like this for the rest of his life if he wanted to. 

“Is that the best you can do?” Oliver was mocking him now. The attitude was all just a part of the game. “You must have a better strategy than that, love. Do you want me to think that you are helpless? Is that what you are? Helpless on your own?”

“M’not… helpless…” He groaned, loving every moment of it. 

Oliver’s hot breath was tickling his lips. He was close, hovering above his face. So close. 

“Then show me!” Oliver bellowed, provoking him. “Fight me! Do something! How are you going to make me let go of you?”

Elio knew instinctively. 

He caught Oliver’s lips with his own and initiated one of their most fiery, heated, zealous and loving kisses to date. It caught Oliver by surprise at first, but he went along with it determinedly, only adding to the urge, the craze. Elio had gone soft and limp underneath him, though it wasn’t like he had put up much of a fight to begin with. His entire body felt like jelly. His body had stopped responding to his own commands, awaiting Oliver’s instead. He was Oliver’s, to shape and to mould. Oliver could do with him anything he wanted. 

Oliver probably felt his submission immediately. It wasn’t long before the blond man released Elio’s wrists and moved his hands to wrap his arms around the boy’s body instead, desperate to hug and to cuddle him even if it meant putting an end to his power-play. 

Removing his lips from Elio’s mouth, he chuckled:

“You failed to escape me, darling.” 

“Because I didn’t want to escape you at all,” Elio muttered back, holding Oliver’s gaze significantly. 

When Oliver couldn’t find any words to say, he simply stuck his tongue down his lover’s throat all over again, winning himself some extra time in the hope that he wouldn’t have to deal with Elio’s sorrow. Not yet, anyway.

“Seeing as it is my turn to ask for a favour tonight, I have made up my mind about what I want,” Elio announced when, eventually, Oliver rolled off him, allowing them both to catch their breaths. 

“Tell me,” Oliver reassured him as he gently brushed away some of the curls from Elio’s forehead, “we’ll do anything you want, baby.” 

“I want you to teach me how to…” Elio hesitated, feeling his cheeks grow hotter. “How to give good blowjobs,” he revealed, awaiting Oliver’s reaction. “No – not just good ones, but perfect ones. I want to give you the best blowjob you’ve ever had.”

For a moment, Oliver’s expression was impossible to read. 

“Hmm,” He remarked slowly. “Doesn’t sound very rewarding for you, baby. I mean, what would you gain from it?”

“The sound of your moans,” Elio whispered intriguingly, smirking as he sensed a sudden thrill in the older man. “I want to suck you off so good you’ll never forget it,” he persisted. “And you will forever miss the feeling of my lips around your dick. My tongue. My warm mouth.” At this, Elio parted his lips suggestively, letting his tongue slide across his front teeth, offering Oliver a glimpse of what was to come. “And when you’re back in America, even if it’s five years from now, you’ll still wake up in the middle of the night – even if you’ve got a beautiful woman by your side – and you will cry for me. ‘Elio, Elio, come to me – I need you to suck me off again, I need it so bad!’” 

Oliver was speechless at first, but then he couldn’t help but to break into a great, big smile. 

“You’re certainly not underestimating yourself,” teased the American, inhaling sharply and then – then, they both knew just how much Oliver indeed wanted this. “I think you’re just trying to brand my dick. You would write your name on it if you could, wouldn’t you?” Oliver chuckled. “That would certainly keep away any competitors.”

Elio rolled his eyes at him.

“You would love to have people fighting over your dick,” he huffed. “Well, if you teach me how to pleasure you the best, I shouldn’t have to compete with anyone. So come on, Oliver – show me how it’s done.” 

Elio was already reaching for the older man’s crotch when Oliver stopped him by seizing his hand.

“Hold on for a moment, not so fast,” taunted the American. “Let’s talk strategies first.”

“Strategies?” Elio frowned. “Do I need to make a plan for giving you a blowjob?” 

“I’m just saying…” Oliver laughed and shook his head. “I have certain fantasies, alright? There’s this thing that I’ve never dared to ask anyone before. It’s not something you ought to ask of a woman. Not if you’re a gentleman like me.”

“Ha!” Mocked Elio. “You mean you’re the kind of gentleman who likes to fuck boys in dark alleyways.” 

Oliver slapped his arm for being cheeky yet again. 

“Elio, hear me out,” he said seriously, “this is an invitation for you to offer me something I’ve always wanted. Something I’ve never had the courage to ask for until now. Would you like to be the first? Here’s your chance.”

Elio felt himself hesitate rather stupidly, even though there was no chance in hell that he would ever be able to deny Oliver a single thing. 

“What is it?” He asked in the end. His eyes were so wide with curiosity that he ended up giving himself away. Of course he was going to go along with it. Of course he was going to give Oliver anything he wanted. “What do you want?”

Oliver leaned in, palming the back of the boy’s neck with his hand, bringing their faces close.

“Elio Perlman,” tentalised the American, sporting a smug grin, “I want to throat-fuck you.”

 

XxX

 

At the way that Oliver had raised the bar, raised the stakes and replaced Elio’s request with an even bolder one, Elio was now certain that their seven nights of sexual favours had turned into seven nights of sexual challenges. 

Oliver was once again daring him, testing him, even on Elio’s night of requesting, of entreating. 

Elio had embarrassed himself to begin with by kneeling down in front of Oliver, expecting this position to be the key to a classic mouth-on-cock procedure. Oliver had laughed at him as soon as he saw. 

“I don’t think I can enter your throat from that angle, love,” he had informed him, petting Elio’s hair and Elio had immediately felt belittled. He had felt like a child. Unaware. 

“Right,” he said, all flustered, pretending to know. “I – I just thought we could do some warming up first.”

But Oliver was already rock-hard and ready. Soon, Elio was guided back on top of the bed and as he sprawled himself out, he awaited Oliver’s instructions. 

“You should be on your back,” smiled the American, feeling a small sting piercing through his heart as he watched his lover before him. Elio was rarer than anything he’d ever come across. Purer than anything he’d ever tasted or beheld. The boy was something so special, so exceptional. He was a lot braver than Oliver had been at seventeen. “Let your head hang over the edge of the bed,” Oliver continued and Elio obeyed without hesitance. How could someone so young be so loyal? So unafraid and trusting? “How do you feel?”

“I’m ready,” Elio announced without thinking, causing Oliver to doubt his sincerity. The boy was too eager to please, too scared to disappoint him in any way. “Bring it on.”

Oliver held his breath as Elio stilled himself, his eyes closed in concentration and his lips parting dutifully. In that moment, Oliver could have done anything he wanted with him and Elio wouldn’t have objected. 

“No, Elio,” Oliver spoke with a small sigh, “I know you’re offering yourself up to me, but let’s take it slow, okay? I’m not just going to go crazy on you. Not until you’re ready.”

“But…”

“This is new to you, too,” Oliver reminded him. “I need to make sure that you are comfortable with this. Don’t chew off more than you can swallow, remember.” 

Oliver crouched down next to the bed, leaning in to kiss Elio’s lips that were upside-down. 

“Alright,” Elio responded, releasing a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding in. “We’ll take it slow.” 

Oliver started by rubbing his erection in Elio’s face, poking his tip against the boy’s nose, or chin, before slapping it right against his cheek, allowing Elio to feel the full impact and power of his meat. Elio would wince, boosting Oliver’s ego by pretending that it hurt and Oliver smirked, pulling back his dick using his hand before letting it slap him again, hard enough for it to bounce back. 

“I get it, I get it,” giggled Elio, pulling a face, “you’re big. Get to the point.”

Oliver wasn’t just big. He was the biggest Elio had ever seen. He didn’t only have length, but width, too. Their first time together had been difficult, though as he looked back on it, probably the sweetest moment of Elio’s life even though he hadn’t realised it at the time. Though he hadn’t actually admitted this to his lover, Elio was certain that Oliver knew. That first penetration had hurt like a motherfucker. He had felt it for days to come. It was only now that Elio had, finally, learned to take Oliver in without having to bite the pillow or silence his cries. Oliver had stretched him out so often, so thoroughly, since their first time together that – weirdly enough – Elio was beginning to miss the sweetness of the sting. 

The sweetness of the sting.

It perfectly summoned up the fate of their relationship. From the very beginning, it had been pleasure mixed with pain. It hadn’t been possible to seek the joy, or the happiness, without having to face the inevitable heartbreak, too. The sorrow of knowing that every kiss, every reciprocated smile and every secretive touch of a foot under the table could never last for longer than the briefest of moments in time. 

It would all be gone before they knew it. Though they belonged to one another, they would share so little of their lives together and much more of it apart. 

It was too easy to get addicted to the sweetness alone and hence ignore the sting altogether, Elio thought. 

The pain. He needed to be reminded of it every now and again, before it was too late. 

Oliver bent over the bed and entered his mouth slowly, adding only a few inches in order to give Elio an easy start. But this time, Elio was determined. He didn’t want easy. It wasn’t what he needed. 

The first time Oliver thrusted deeply enough to hit his throat, Elio choked instantly, screwing up his face as the distress washed over him. In an act of mercy, Oliver was going to pull himself out quickly, but Elio stopped him. He raised his hands and brought them to the back of Oliver’s thighs, keeping him in place and preventing him from going anywhere.

The sting had returned and Elio needed to exercise it any way he could. 

‘Use me, Oliver. Use me.’

It was a prayer. A desperate confession of need.

Oliver pulled out of his throat, causing Elio to gag, only to ram his length back in between his teeth, entering the back of Elio’s mouth fiercely. 

Elio whimpered, struggling to get used to the sensation. 

“It’s okay,” Oliver whispered somewhere above him, pulling lightly at the boy’s hair in order to force his head back and expose his throat further. “You’re doing so good. You’re making me feel so good, baby.”

He wanted Elio to know that it was worth his efforts. 

Elio winced, trying his hardest to relax his throat and suppress his gag reflex. Oliver was so big. His entire mouth was so full. It was getting so incredibly hard to breathe. 

Oliver’s groan was what spurred him on. As soon as he heard clear evidence of his lover’s pleasure, Elio was immediately persuaded. This was what he wanted. He wanted Oliver to cry with joy and to fall down to his knees with gratitude. He wanted to give him it all. 

Elio hummed. He began to use his tongue, though it was nowhere near Oliver’s tip. He even attempted to suck, though his throat was much too occupied for that.

Oliver slid further down his throat, causing him to jump and to splutter.

“Shhh, you’re alright,” Oliver soothed him, his fingers tightening around his hair, “you’re alright.” 

Again, Elio was persuaded. 

Oliver continued to drive himself in and out of his throat in a slow, somewhat sloppy rhythm. Elio was beginning to adjust. Oliver was just warming up. 

He was using the tightness of Elio’s throat to pleasure himself. The boy’s throat was even narrower than his body and it felt like Heaven as it clenched around his head. 

“Elio…” Oliver sighed, closing his eyes shut. “Oh God!”

Elio moaned.

When Oliver decided to use his full length on him, Elio was faced with another challenge. Oliver entered him until he was balls-deep, meaning that not only was his face suddenly buried in pubes, tickling his skin, his nostrils – his balls were sagging against Elio’s nose, threatening to block his airways. For a moment, Oliver was choking him again. Causing him to stop breathing. Tensing his body and forcing himself to endure it for as long as he could, Elio grew desperate. He couldn’t imagine anything hotter than this and at the same time, it was the most exhausting, compromising task that Oliver had given him so far. 

“Mpf!”

He couldn’t hold his strength up. In the end, he had to resurface and draw some air. When Oliver stalled, teasing him meanly, Elio found himself writhing, then slapping his hand against the older man’s butt cheek, urging him to give him a break.

Oliver pulled out of him. Elio coughed and retched, heaving for air dramatically. For a moment, his lungs were on fire. His throat throbbing and sore.

“Are you okay?” Oliver whispered, cupping his face.

“Again!” Elio croaked, his voice rough and slightly abused. “Do it again!” 

The following time, Oliver was relentless. He was savage, feral and rough with him. It was everything that Elio had hoped for. Oliver huffed and cried and whined in order to show his rapture and elation. Elio was letting him live his fantasy. His body had become a mere vessel for Oliver’s satisfaction. It was the most selfless thing he’d ever accomplished while still taking pleasure from it. 

Oliver began to slam his hips against Elio’s face, fucking him violently. 

He was using his full length, pushing himself in and out of his lover’s throat, quickening his pace, steadying his rhythms. Elio was still gagging occasionally, though he no longer had any urge to resist. Oliver watched in awe as Elio’s throat bulged and swelled for each time he entered him. He could practically watch himself in there, moving around somewhere behind the boy’s Adam’s apple, prodding at his insides, filling him up. 

“Oh God!” Oliver hissed, throwing his head back. 

He was so close. He couldn’t possibly continue to delay his climax. It was approaching so fast, he was no longer in control of it. On a sudden whim, he reached in over Elio’s unmoving body, aiming for the erection giving the younger man away; a clear tell-tale sign of his enjoyment. Closing his mouth around him without giving Elio any warning, Oliver smirked when he felt him jerking underneath him. Stretching himself across the bed in order to reach meant resting his pelvis even closer against Elio’s face. While he still thrusted and grinded mercilessly, hammering away at Elio’s mouth and throat, entering him hard, Oliver went down on him, returning the favour and rewarding him for his endurance. Sucking and licking at him skillfully, Oliver rejoiced at the fact that Elio buckled his hips as a result, twisting wildly as he produced a frantic, keening sound. 

Elio surrendered and came in Oliver’s mouth within seconds. Though he had only just begun, Oliver had instantly won the race that he had created. 

After that, Oliver pulled back and reached a hand underneath Elio’s head, supporting him gently as he drove into him one last time, causing Elio to gulp, his eyes snapping open as he took him all the way in. 

Oliver collapsed and came with a small scream, surprising even himself. While he had already started to ejaculate deeply into Elio’s throat, he began to pull back, eager to spread his semen anywhere he could. Dragging his cock out of Elio, slowly, making sure to spill his seed against the boy’s tongue, he freed himself from the wetness and warmth of Elio’s mouth. Swiftly, Oliver took his member into his hand and began to stroke himself, grinning when he managed to spill some more cum in the other’s face. He was able to shoot a load of it against the boy’s lips, causing the white substance to trail down Elio’s face. Seeing as he was still upside down, it spilled into his nostril, fast, bringing Elio to sneeze. Then, as a final act of domination, Oliver shot another load across his cheek, staining him, marking his territory. 

Suddenly, Oliver was off him, disengaging himself completely. 

Elio gasped and raised a hand to his face, smearing Oliver’s semen all over his skin as he failed to wipe it off. 

On his way towards the bathroom, he heard Oliver laughing at him again.

“You know,” Oliver told him later that night, after they had both cleaned themselves up again and Elio had wrapped himself up in the other’s arms, resting his head against his broad shoulder, “you didn’t have to go through with it. I know that couldn’t have been easy for you. I hope I wasn’t too rough.” 

Elio blinked sleepily, contentedly, as he locked eyes with the bigger man. 

“Promise me you’ll remember it,” was all he said, smiling faintly. 

His voice was still hoarse and rasping. Oliver was beginning to fear that he had hurt his throat without meaning to. 

“Why did you let me do it, Elio?” He asked unexpectedly, wearing a pensive look on his face. Elio watched him with surprise. Luckily, Oliver didn’t seem regretful. Just curious. Perhaps he didn’t understand after all. “You let me make a selfish decision. Doesn’t that bother you?”

“No?” His reply had come out like a question, though there was no doubt in his mind that he would do it again, and again, and again… Elio shrugged. “I liked it.”

“Why?” Repeated Oliver. “Why did you like it?”

The answer sounded immediately.

“Because you liked it.” 

Oliver nodded, though this admission didn’t necessarily satisfy him.

Then Elio added: “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just hoping that if I learn to please you well enough, you won’t want to leave. You’re not selfish, Oliver, I am. Because I want more than anything else to keep you for myself and never let you go.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Three: Oliver reveals a small kink for bondage. 
> 
> Elio imagines what life without Oliver is going to be like and finds himself in an emotional state as a result.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the positive response so far, I really appreciate it! :)))
> 
> Enjoy xx

The days were going by so quickly, Elio sometimes felt like he couldn’t breathe. He knew that, little by little, Oliver had started to vanish before him. His colours were changing, wearing off. The sound of his voice was growing fainter, sounding almost ghost-like.

Soon he’d be gone and it was all out of Elio’s hands. There was no stopping it from happening. These, he realised, would be the best days of his entire life and simultaneously, the most traumatic, too.

To think that, at only seventeen, Elio’s life would have peaked.

What was he supposed to do with the rest of it? 

On day three, Oliver took him to the Spanish Steps where, finding a bit of shade, they sat down next to each other, looking around them as if they were nothing but a pair of regular tourists who were only here to see, and to photograph, and to speak without a care in the world. 

Elio would rather not speak at all.

“Here,” Oliver initiated, offering him a cigarette. “I won’t tell your parents.”

Elio snorted with a smirk.

“They won’t care,” he remarked truthfully, accepting Oliver’s offer. “I’ve smoked around them before. At parties mostly.” 

Oliver nodded, knowing this to be true.

“You really don’t have anything to rebel against, do you?” He smiled. They’d been over this before. “I wish my parents had been more like that, but then again, I can’t complain. I’ve had more freedom than most of my friends at home.”

“I can’t imagine you not being free to do what you want,” Elio confessed, watching Oliver with peaked interest. “When you came here, right from day one, you did whatever suited you. I liked that about you, even when it annoyed me, too.” 

Oliver lit his cigarette, taking a silent drag. 

“You have no idea what I’m like back in America,” he huffed, stalling as he seemed lost in thought. “Anyway, I’m glad you don’t have to waste your time rebelling. I think your parents would support you through whatever choices you made in life. I’m glad to know that when I leave, you’ll be fine. That’s what you said, wasn’t it? You’ll be heartbroken, but fine.”

Oliver appeared to be quoting Elio’s past statement in order to reassure himself. 

“What if I won’t be fine?” Elio asked suddenly, swallowing a lump in his throat. “How would you even know?”

Oliver shrugged this notion off immediately.

“Of course you’ll be fine,” he persisted, sounding certain as ever.

“How can you be sure?” Elio mouthed, blinking as a ray of sunlight found its way into his eyes.

Oliver exhaled, breathing out his smoke nonchalantly.

“Because you’re better off without me,” he said, clasping a hand to Elio’s narrow shoulder. “Anyway, now is not the time to dwell, nor to speculate.”

He raised himself to his feet, looking around him again. A German family stood right in front of them had started to take pictures of the steps and Oliver was pretty sure that he and Elio would be in every single one of the photos. How strange to think that, somewhere in Germany, there would in future be an album containing pictures of Elio and himself, together, making it through the little time they had left. This moment, one of the last they would ever share in each other’s company, would be immortalised in this family’s collection of memories and these people would never even know.

“Let’s keep walking,” Oliver said with conviction in his voice. “I cannot sit still for too long in a busy place like this.”

 

XxX

 

That night, they were out drinking again, though with precaution, hoping to avoid the mistake they’d made when they first came here. After all, Rome was full of secrets, full of strangers and unknown intentions. 

Between Elio and Oliver, there wasn’t room for anyone else to meddle in and steal focus. 

Back in the hotel room, Oliver was aching to reveal to Elio which favour he was intending to ask him this time. He started to sense that, in reality, Elio, too, was aching to ask him. 

“I want to tie you up,” he blurted out, before he could even build up a suspense. Elio looked at him with surprise. “If you don’t mind, that is,” Oliver added lamely, clearing his throat.

It had been a fantasy of his for as long as he could remember. It seemed cliché, he realised, but truthfully, it was so much more than just a fetish. It wasn’t like he was one of those guys who’d just seen a girl get tied up and then ravished in some lousy, shady porn video and then thought to himself, ‘yes, that’s what I like! This is something I’ll definitely have to do to someone if the right person comes along.” To him, it wasn’t about dominance, entitlement, nor oppression of the bottoming partner.

It was just that, in all honesty, he was certain that Elio would look so breathtakingly beautiful if he was splayed out in front of him, with his hands cuffed and nothing to hold on to except Oliver’s handling of him. His desire was very much of a visual nature and yet, at the same time… Oliver assumed that it was also about asking Elio to hand himself over to him, to trust him so deeply that, in theory, he would let him do anything he wanted with his body while, in his tied-up state, he wouldn’t be able to protest.

Elio didn’t know what to say at first. Was he testing him again? Was he trying to push Elio to his limits, hence identifying what his limits were? Was Oliver trying to act possessively, or passionately, or had he merely turned Elio into his personal Guinea pig for his own amusement? 

Perhaps, Elio thought, Oliver simply wanted to know if Elio was capable of saying no to him.

But then, why say no when, without hesitance, Elio longed to give Oliver this power over him? It was what he had always wanted. To bestow to Oliver not only himself, but everything he owned so that he could belong to him and be his, his alone, and in return, Oliver would be allowed to do to him whatever he desired because basically, significantly, their wants and needs were one and the same.

It would be a fair trade. It would be magical, like an alignment of yearnings and wishes finally coming true.

Instead of telling Oliver any of this, however, Elio made jokes.

“You want to tie me up? Why? Are you worried I’ll run off?” He laughed. “Last time I checked, you’re the one leaving me, not the other way around.” Oliver didn’t find it funny. “Sorry,” lamented Elio, wishing he could have kept his mouth shut. “Just kidding.”

Oliver’s voice was impatient, though not pushy:

“So? What do you say? Can I tie you to the bed or not?”

Elio giggled immaturely. 

They were both acting weird about it. In reality, they probably shared the same fear of revealing too much of themselves; revealing just how much they both wanted this.

“Yeah,” he said, grinning as a rush of blood went through his body at the look of Oliver’s hungry, eager stare that was thrilling him perfectly. “Of course you can.”

“Of course I can,” Oliver repeated pensively, like there was a secret meaning to Elio’s choice of words. “Right, then.”

Unfortunately, they didn’t have any ropes, or handcuffs. Oliver had to be creative. 

“Go on,” he encouraged Elio as soon as they were ready, “lie down on the bed, baby. Make yourself comfortable.”

And Elio did. 

“Is this alright?” Questioned the boy, eager to please as he raised both his hands to the headboard, willing himself to be restrained. 

Oliver knelt down on top of the mattress, smiling down at him as he pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. 

“You might want to lose your shirt before I tie your wrists,” he suggested wisely. “Unless you want me to rip it off your body later.”

As tempting as that was, Elio thought better of it and pulled his shirt up over his head, ridding himself of it. As soon as his slim chest and torso were exposed, Oliver reached out his hand to touch him. 

“Are you leaving me to undress all by myself?” Elio pouted, though he shuddered with delight as Oliver started to caress his nipple in between gentle fingers. 

“Hmm,” Oliver chuckled, “always with that attitude, huh? Tonight, love, I’m calling the shots, remember.”

Oliver used the hotel towels to fasten around Elio’s wrists, binding his hands separately and securely to the headboard behind him, pinning him down. Elio’s breaths were calm and easy. Luckily, he didn’t seem doubtful whatsoever. 

“Let’s get these off you, beautiful,” hummed Oliver as he tugged at Elio’s shorts, pulling them down slowly. “I want to see all of you.”

Elio was soon left completely naked and then, only then, did Oliver show mercy by unbuttoning his own shirt. By the time he reached for his underwear, Elio was achingly hard and eager to move things along. 

“Touch me,” Elio pleaded, this time aloud, “touch me, touch me, touch me…”

Oliver straddled him in the middle of the bed, letting his own erection rub against the boy’s stomach as he squirmed and grinded against him. He brought his hands down to Elio’s shoulders, holding him down even though he was already restrained. 

“Oliver…” Elio sighed, closing his eyes softly. 

As if he wasn’t already submissive, Elio now spread his legs slightly; an open invitation for Oliver to get in there and take him as brutally or as tenderly as he pleased. 

For that part, Oliver waited. 

The older man took his sweet time as he trailed a series of kisses down both his arms, nibbling and biting lightly at Elio’s smooth, pale skin. Elio panted and pulled at his restraints, hoping to catch Oliver with his mouth, but he couldn’t reach. Oliver ignored the boy’s attempt to participate and continued with his kisses. He kissed his lover’s neck affectionately, making Elio squirm as Oliver’s hot breath tickled the most sensitive parts of his skin. Then Oliver stretched out his tongue, licking his way upwards, starting at the base of Elio’s throat, poking his Adam’s apple with his tongue, moving up again and stopping only as he licked across his chin and made it to his lips. 

“Oh God,” Elio sighed, his eyes still closed.

Oliver cut him off immediately, letting his tongue enter Elio’s mouth, snogging him desperately and powerfully. Elio tried his best to keep up, to kiss him back, though, seeing as he was less experienced, he couldn’t quite match Oliver’s pace, Oliver’s vigour. It was like his tongue could curl, and prod, and extend, in ways that Elio’s couldn’t. 

Oliver withdrew from his mouth, ending the kiss by catching Elio’s bottom lip in between his teeth, biting him playfully, then meanly. Elio gave a small cry after which he let go. Now he was moving down the boy’s body, paying more attention to his chest, his nipples, his torso, his bellybutton. Oliver kissed it all, trying not to let a single inch of Elio’s skin go untouched, or unexplored, unlicked. Elio shivered when Oliver’s tongue dragged itself across both his nipples, but it was Oliver’s sticking his tongue inside his bellybutton that made the boy arch his back and moan obscenely. 

“Ticklish?” Oliver asked him teasingly, repeating his last move like it was a dirty trick. He penetrated the small bellybutton even harder this time, poking his way inside with his tongue, ignoring the fact that there was barely room for him there. Elio hissed and threw his head back, kicking his legs carefully. “I think I have found a sensitive spot of yours,” Oliver smirked, taking note of it. “Let me try something.”

Before Elio knew what was happening, Oliver had taken his own erect cock into his hand, now trying to stick it into the bellybutton, which was tiny in comparison. Oliver’s head was big and swollen, poking into Elio’s stomach with all its hardness, like a weapon trying to break through a wall.

“Are you trying to fuck my bellybutton?” Elio raised his head from the pillow, trying to get a glimpse of Oliver’s experimental foreplay. He smirked with satisfaction. He enjoyed the friskiness in his older lover. 

“Mm-hmm,” Oliver deadpanned, pushing his hips forward as he tried to penetrate him again. “I like your tiny, tiny hole, baby…”

Oliver kept poking and drilling into him without actually getting anywhere. After a while, Elio could practically feel the bruises forming across his skin. Then, wetness. Elio stretched his neck again anxiously, believing Oliver to have climaxed ever so selfishly, without offering him any satisfaction. 

“Relax,” laughed Oliver, detecting the regret in the boy’s eyes, “it’s only pre-cum.”

He smeared some more of it over Elio’s torso, making him tremble with want. Elio almost couldn’t take it. He wanted to feel Oliver in between his legs so bad. 

“You’re such a tease,” he complained, his eyes dim and dark with want. 

Oliver stilled and took a moment to look down at him. There was something so deliciously exotic about Elio, about his dark hair, dark eyebrows, his curls, his small features and his slim build. The look in the boy’s blue-green eyes could sometimes seem so relaxed and carefree only to suddenly intensify, until he looked back at Oliver with an almost piercing stare. 

Those eyes. Those beautiful, trusting, mischievous eyes… So boyish. So young. 

“Can I ask for another favour?” Oliver ventured, running his hand up Elio’s body, planting his palm just above his heart. 

“What?” Elio asked innocently, desperate to move things along. 

Oliver reached for his own discarded shirt on the floor, picking it up without clarifying. Slowly, as if he expected the other to protest, to stop him, Oliver brought the material close to Elio’s face, waiting for him to figure his intentions out.

“What is that for?” Elio asked quietly, clueless. 

“I want to blindfold you,” Oliver whispered softly as this was his way to ask for permission; using a statement rather than a question. “I want to tighten this around your eyes.”

“Oh.” Elio bit his lip, pretending to mull over his answer. “Right,” he said, grinning wickedly, “bring it on. I don’t have to watch your face, baby, as long as you promise to fuck me.”

“So cheeky. So rude. Look at that big mouth of yours,” Oliver moped, gripping Elio’s jaw with his strong hand, feigning to scold him. As he moved his hand closer to his pink lips, Elio licked and sucked at his fingers deviously, half teasing, half worshipping him. 

At first, the blindfold didn’t bother him at all. Oliver had made sure not to tighten it too much, wanting Elio to be comfortable. However, not being able to see meant not being able to follow Oliver’s moves. For once, Elio was unable to predict the approaching steps, shifts and actions. He couldn’t be certain when the foreplay ended and when Oliver wanted to get down to business. Even though it was hard to admit, Elio was beginning to feel vulnerable. Exposed. Oliver could see him, all of him even, whereas he was denied such privilege. 

When Oliver pulled at his hair, Elio didn’t see it coming. Wincing and whimpering without meaning to, the surprise of it had prevented him from staying in control. 

“Did I hurt you?” Oliver’s voice sounded, failing to mask his concern.

“No, of course not,” Elio snorted, pulling himself together. “Don’t stop…”

There were more kisses. Oliver’s hot mouth returned, ghosting over Elio’s throat before teeth sank into his shoulder, gnawing at him cautiously. Elio gasped, spreading his legs open even wider. 

The sound of the lubricant being opened gave Oliver away and spoiled the opportunity of a second surprise.

Oliver pushed into him without further warning, knowing Elio was well prepared. As he mounted the body underneath him and brought their torsos together, Oliver began to fuck him lustfully and wildly, letting his thrusts multiply and quicken. Elio grunted, adjusting his body as he once again felt like he couldn’t keep up. 

Not that he minded.

He liked it this way. Taking whatever Oliver gave to him ever so submissively, surrendering and handing over any sense of control, or power, offering it to Oliver instead. Oliver would forever be in charge and Elio was destined to lie back and take it – take it until he was either used up or had to drop down with exhaustion. 

Oliver planted his hands on Elio’s shoulders, holding on to him as he rammed himself further in, stretching Elio open, tearing his insides in two. Elio mewled and whined, pulling against his restraints almost subconsciously. As Oliver entered him harder, deeper, Elio wrapped his legs around those powerful, mighty hips that continued to fuck him relentlessly. He wanted to keep Oliver in place. He wanted to keep him from ever pulling out again. His body felt so full, so occupied and dominated, Elio swore that he was swooning all over again.

This had to be Oliver’s way of claiming him, of making him his, because surely – surely – Elio would never come back from this. There would never be another. A replacement for this simply didn’t exist. This was the real thing. It didn’t get any better. 

Elio growled and hissed like a wild animal, writhing underneath Oliver’s body. He wished he could have touched him and clawed at his back, he wished he could have seen that pretty face above his own so that he could have aimed his kisses without searching blindly and making a fool of himself. Perhaps Oliver was starting to sense his incapability because soon after he heard Elio groaning again, he leaned in to whisper:

“Look at you, love. You’re so beautiful when you’re trapped and helpless.”

Oliver then granted him the kiss that Elio couldn’t initiate. He breathed hotly into the boy’s mouth, panting as he strained himself in order to put more force into his thrusts. Elio opened up his mouth for him, letting Oliver’s tongue slide over his teeth before reaching in deeper, silencing his moans. It was true what he had said. Elio was beautiful like this; all stretched out underneath him, restrained like his own private prisoner. He looked so small and vulnerable. So obedient. So compliant and faithful. There wasn’t a doubt in Oliver’s mind that Elio took pleasure just from pleasing him. 

“You feel so good, baby,” Oliver sighed next, slapping against him, “you’re so tight. Did you know that? You’re so perfect…”

In response, Elio merely whimpered, crying out for more. 

Oliver paused in order to swing Elio’s legs over his shoulders, raising that perky, little ass in the air. Leaning in over the tied-up body, Oliver was now able to fuck him madly and roughly, having gained better access. Even when Oliver was already in full control, he sought further dominance. 

“Yes!” Elio shouted, arching his back as Oliver penetrated him viciously, hitting his prostate again and again. “Oliver, you fucking brute!” 

He was pounding him, hitting against him so hard that all Elio could hear was flesh and skin slapping together, along with Oliver’s heavy wheezing. It felt so good, it ached. Once again, pain and pleasure blurred together, one taking over from where the other left off. Sometimes the two even overshadowed, or interrupted, one another, as if competing for dominance over Elio’s emotions. 

Oliver came a moment later, climaxing with a howl as he impaled Elio harshly, driving himself as far in as he possibly could before ejaculating. Elio cried, too, as Oliver’s hand seized his member and started to jerk him off skilfully, causing the boy to come in no time seeing as he had been achingly ready, yet unable to touch himself. 

“Oh God…” moaned Oliver, fucking Elio continuously as he was still in the process of releasing his semen. He let Elio's legs drop down from his shoulders as he laid down on top of him, panting as he nuzzled his face into the other’s shoulder, resting himself against him. “Oh God,” he sighed again, trembling with delight and fatigue. “Elio,” he whispered, wiping his cum-filled hand across the sheets as he let go of the younger man, “Elio, Elio, Elio…”

Elio exhaled heatedly as he attempted to press his face against the top of Oliver’s head, smelling that blond, golden hair of his.

“Elio,” he whispered back, repeating Oliver’s words. “Elio… Elio…”

Oliver caught on instantly.

“Oliver,” he uttered, changing his chant, “Oliver, Oliver, Oliver…”

For a moment, the two of them nuzzled closer against each other, both wearing tired smiles on their faces. Then Oliver announced that he was going to go clean himself up, and he left the bed without untying Elio first, without ridding him of the blindfold. Elio remained silent as he refrained from protesting. He heard Oliver’s steps as the American headed for the bathroom, even closing the door behind him. Had Oliver’s voice quivered slightly? Had he sounded happy or disheartened? Elio fought against his restraints this time, wanting to escape, but the knots had been bound too tight; he couldn’t possibly free himself. He was stuck, powerlessly awaiting Oliver’s return, depending on the older man to liberate him. 

The water was turned on in the bathroom. Elio could hear Oliver ripping off paper from the toilet roll. 

He threw his head back and let himself get lost in the darkness before his eyes. Perhaps this was like a view into his future, a cruel glimpse of what his life was going to become after Oliver. No more laughter, no more tickling sensations inside his stomach every time he even looked at him, no more summer, or warmth, no more beaches, no more water, no more secret kisses as they’d snuck into each other’s rooms in the middle of the night. If Oliver had been a ray of sunshine when he had entered his life, surely this would be what was left once he had disappeared. The sun, the light, would have vanished with him, leaving Elio alone with nothing but darkness and uncertainty. 

Elio’s world would be cold without Oliver in it. Imagining life without him was something so dreadful, so upsetting, Elio could barely believe the approaching tragedy to be real. 

Suddenly, he’d come down from his high; the ecstasy of his orgasm had worn off in the instant that Oliver had vacated the room. Elio was on his own in a big, empty bed, feeling loveless and forsaken. His chest hurt. His limbs ached. He could still feel the burn from where Oliver had just pushed inside his body and cracked him open like a walnut. 

There it was again. The sting. The only evidence of Oliver having been here. Elio’s hurting was Oliver’s legacy.

He was beginning to feel like he couldn’t breathe. Tossing and twisting with urgency, Elio released a whimpering sound as he was desperate to escape the anguish washing over him.

“Oliver!” He called finally, on the brink of panicking. “Oliver, help…”

‘Come back. Come back to me, Oliver… Our time is not up yet. I’m not ready.’

The water tap was switched off and the bathroom door opened immediately. Oliver had heard his calling and was now rushing back to his side.

“Elio!” He exclaimed when he saw him. “Oh, fuck…”

The blood was streaming down the boy’s face, gushing profusely from his nose and down his lips, his chin, even spilling across his throat and dripping onto the mattress. Elio, tied-up and defenceless, could do nothing to stop it. 

“Oliver!” He cried again, spitting as some of the blood made it into his mouth. 

Without further hesitation, Oliver was there to comfort him. He shushed the younger man, tormented by the upset in Elio’s voice, and he petted his hair, whispering words of endearment as he untied his blindfold first thing, Oliver’s own shirt. 

“Elio, I’m sorry,” Oliver fussed remorsefully, lifting the veil from his lover’s eyes, “I’m so sorry, baby. How did this happen?”

He used the shirt to wipe the blood off Elio’s mouth before the boy could stop him.

“No,” Elio begged him, though it was too late, “not your white shirt, Oliver, it’s going to stain.” Then, when Oliver continued to use it, rubbing it against Elio’s chin and throat gently in order to stop the blood from trailing any further, he added: “That was one of your nicest shirts.”

“You are more important,” said the older man, regretting nothing. “Elio, look at you,” Oliver spoke with concern, “you’re covered in blood. It’s everywhere. Are you feeling lightheaded?” 

“No,” Elio told him, keeping still as Oliver untied the towels and freed his hands. He winced. The skin around his wrists was red, itching like carpet burns. Elio rubbed his arm under his nose, trying to stop the flow. As he withdrew, fresh blood was spilling onto his chest. 

“You’re still bleeding,” Oliver remarked, evidently disturbed by this. “Are you sure you don’t feel sick?” 

“I’m fine,” Elio insisted, even as a new trail of blood ran from his nose and stained his lips again. “Oliver, it’s just a nosebleed.”

“Was it something I did?” Oliver’s voice was fretful and anxious. “Elio, did I hurt you?”

“What were you doing in there?” He countered instead of answering the other’s question, nodding in direction of the bathroom. “You left the bed so suddenly.” 

“What do you mean? Elio, I was only gone for a minute.” Oliver tried to change the subject back to him. “When I left, you were fine. How did this happen?” 

He was evading, dodging the truth. He looked away, but Elio saw it. His eyes were red and his cheeks were practically still salty. If Elio had licked at them, he would have tasted it.

“You’ve been crying,” Elio stated sadly, looking Oliver in the eyes. “Is that why you left? You didn’t want me to know?”

His voice was tender and caring, for once not making fun at all. 

Oliver sighed, averting his eyes again even though he had already been caught. Perhaps he was still fighting back his emotions. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he muttered with defeat. He sounded broken. Hollow. “Not now. It’s still too early to talk about.”

“But Oliver…”

“No,” insisted the older man, shaking his head tiredly, “no, Elio, let’s not worry about it. Not until we have to.” 

He was admitting it. He was just as devastated having to go as Elio was in having to see him leave. 

Elio then decided to come clean, too. 

“I had a panic-attack when you were in the bathroom,” he confessed dolefully, running the back of his hand against his nose as the blood kept coming. “That’s how this happened. I – I was trying to imagine what my life will be like after you’re gone…” Elio’s eyes had grown sorrowful and heavy. “I feel so stupid.”

“Elio, no,” Oliver exhaled woefully, hating himself for causing this misery, “don’t say that. You’re not stupid. You couldn’t help it. I shouldn’t have left you like that, okay? This is my fault. I didn’t have to hide from you like a child. I should have at least untied you first.”

Oliver inched closer and wrapped his arm around the younger man, pulling him close to his body.

“You must think I’m so weak,” Elio lamented, closing his eyes. “You must think I’m pathetic.”

“No. No, baby, of course I don’t.” Oliver pressed a kiss to his hair, rubbing Elio’s back in circles with his hand. “Don’t put yourself down like that. Come on. Let’s go get you cleaned up. We need to make your bleeding stop before you start to feel dizzy.”

Before you start to feel dizzy…

Elio cringed, screwing up his face with embarrassment and self-loathing. 

He felt like such a fucking child. Or as Mafalda would have said it, a useless, little bambino.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Four: Elio wants to talk about what happened last night, but Oliver is evading the subject. 
> 
> Though Oliver is refusing to talk, Elio cannot help but to confess his feelings to him.

The next evening, they were sat in a restaurant, chatting casually like they’d been doing all day, (casually and not profoundly) when Elio looked up from his menu and beheld Oliver silently, yet somehow still managing to let him know that he was watching him. 

“Oliver,” he started, though he knew he was agitating the older man.

“Elio,” Oliver replied dully without looking up.

Ever since last night, he’d been wearing sunglasses whenever they were outdoors only to look the other way and pretend not to notice Elio’s gazes whenever they’d made it indoors. Was he still emotional? Or worse yet, did he blame Elio for the way that things had ended in bed?

“Do you want to talk about what happened last night?” Offered Elio cautiously, feeling sick and tired of pretending that everything was fine between them.

Oliver tried his hardest not to react to the question.

“Love, I’ve told you already – you know what last night was about.” Oliver had to supress a sigh. “But it’s too soon to have that talk. We still have time to forget about our problems and enjoy ourselves.” 

“Yeah, but it’s become this big, weird elephant in the room,” Elio pointed out, putting his menu down. Oliver still held on to his, hiding behind it. “Oliver, look at me,” he begged, nearly kicking his foot under the table, “it’s getting uncomfortable. Not talking about, I mean. You were crying and you wouldn’t even do it in front of me.”

“Because I didn’t want to upset you,” Oliver said in between clenched teeth, pretending to read the backside of his menu card for the tenth time. “Let it go, Elio.”

“But I was already upset,” Elio persisted. “Because you left. Because I missed you. Because I know I’m going to miss you.”

“And how do you think that makes me feel, huh?” Oliver asked him in a raised voice, finally putting the menu down. Elio was almost surprised by his tone. “Think about it. How do you think it makes me feel to know that, in only three more days, I’m going to abandon you even though I don’t want to? I’m going to break your heart, Elio, and mine, too, and there’s no way around it. It cannot be stopped. It doesn’t matter how much we talk about it, we are only going to subject ourselves to more pain.”

Oliver paused, looking around him as though he worried that people might have started to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“Okay,” Elio nodded, trying a different strategy. He was going to be kind about. He was going to respect Oliver’s wish to stop bringing it up. Hoping to change the subject, Elio looked over the menu one last time, practicing a more casual voice inside his head. “Do you want to order a bottle of wine with the food?”

“What?”

Oliver hadn’t expected to be able to open up a can of worms like that and still manage to talk about something else

“Do you want wine with your food?” Elio asked him again, trying to sound even more laidback.

Oliver was stunned, it seemed. Before he was able to respond, the waiter came over, interrupting their conversation. Doing their orders in Italian, Elio let Oliver start before he asked for the ravioli for himself.

“And a bottle of Amarone,” Elio finished off, speaking the words in Italian as quickly as he could, but Oliver still caught on.

“No,” the American said, switching over in English, “Elio, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Then, when the waiter looked at them questioningly, Oliver explained: “He was sick last night. Cancel the wine, please.”

“Oliver, come on!” Elio objected with a small groan, ignoring the confused waiter. “I wasn’t sick! It was a nosebleed.” When the waiter hesitated, awaiting their final decision, Elio translated: “It was just a nosebleed. We’ll have the wine, thank you.”

“No,” said Oliver again, exerting his authority as the older one of them. “Cameriere, ignore him, per favore. He’s only seventeen. Do not serve him any wine. We’ll have a couple of cokes instead.”

As though that was the end of it, the waiter nodded quickly and fleeted their table like he was worried they would change their minds again. 

“What the hell?” Elio exclaimed, leaning back in his chair moodily. “You didn’t have to tell him I’m seventeen.”

“And you didn’t have to be so difficult,” Oliver hit back, refusing to apologise. “I don’t know why you’re acting like a brat all of a sudden.”

“A brat?” Elio snorted, crossing his arms over his chest, adopting a look of pure indignation. “If I’m a brat, you’re a jerk!”

Oliver grunted.

“Sounds like something a brat would say,” he muttered, rolling his eyes.

“Oliver, you’ve been in a mood all day,” Elio complained almost bitterly. “You’ve been avoiding conversations and now you’re short with me. Why couldn’t you just let me have that bottle of wine? Are you mad at me for what happened last night?” 

“I’m not mad at you!” Oliver snapped, making Elio believe the opposite. “For Christ’s sake, Elio, I’m just worried. Don’t you get it? Last night you were so upset that you had a nosebleed for almost half an hour and you’ve been looking pale ever since.”

“I’m not pale,” Elio said with offense, “I’m fine! Why are you mothering me? Stop it.”

“Your parents would kill me if I wasn’t looking after you properly,” Oliver reasoned stubbornly. 

“Looking after me? What do you mean looking after me? I’m not your younger brother, Oliver. You’re not responsible for me.”

“What do you mean I’m not responsible for you? Of course I am,” countered the American, “I’m older than you, bigger than you, wiser than you. Of course it’s my job to keep you safe when you’re far from home.”

“God, you’re so patronising!” Elio cried with accusation. “I’m not as far away from home as you! If anything, I should be responsible for you, remember. You’re in my country. It should be my duty to look out for you, just like it’s been my duty to show you around, or even translate for you...” 

“My Italian’s great, I’ve never needed you to translate,” Oliver said childishly as he moped. “Look, your parents trust me to be the adult here. They trust me to protect you. I don’t want to let them down.”

“We’re both adults,” Elio claimed, even though he knew this was an exaggeration, “I don’t need protection.” 

“You say that, but what about the first night we came here?” Oliver reminded him, angering Elio further by holding something so trivial and uneventful against him, and not for the first time. “Do you remember that pimp we met in the alleyway? That creep? He could have hurt you if I wasn’t there.”

“Oh my God,” Elio hissed dramatically, “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation again. Nothing happened, Oliver! I wasn’t in danger. And just to be clear, you didn’t save me, I saved myself.”

“I thought there wasn’t any danger,” Oliver mocked him, driving Elio crazy.

“Forget it!” The boy spat, fuming as he struggled to control himself before the entire restaurant got wind of their petty arguing. “Just forget it – I’m done talking about this.”

By the time their food arrived, the uncomfortable silence was still a pressing issue between them. Oliver would initiate another round of boring, superficial chitchat only to learn that Elio was still sulking, punishing him with silence. After that, Elio would look up from where he had started to pick at his food, eyeing Oliver yearningly as if he was trying to apologise without admitting he was at fault, and Oliver would punish him back by ignoring his unspoken pleas. 

“Is it going to be like this from now on?” Elio sighed in the end, feeling too bothered to even eat the food in front of him. “Are we going to waste our time ignoring each other? Oliver, you’ll be gone in three days.”

Oliver dropped his fork onto his plate, running a hand through his hair with frustration.

“I know,” he said simply.

“In three days,” Elio elaborated, “you’ll be gone and we’ll never see each other again. I’ll never fuck you again. Do you realise that?”

“Charming,” Oliver huffed, keeping his eyes lowered, studying the table self-consciously. “I guess that’s why we’re acting out, huh,” he then added, finally speaking his mind. “We’re both upset. Now we’ve taken it out on each other.”

“Yeah.” Elio hesitated. “Maybe you’re right.” Another pause. Then: “Oliver, I love you.”

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“Don’t say that.”

“But it’s the truth.”

“Even so, it won’t do you any good.” Oliver’s face was stern, though anguished. “You’re only making things harder for yourself. And for me.”

“But if I don’t say it now, I won’t be given another chance,” Elio reasoned. “I love you, Oliver. I want you to know that. Twenty years from now, when you look back at your time in Italy, you’ll know that you weren’t just a plaything of mine. You’ll know that someone loved and worshipped you profoundly.”

“Elio, you only assume you love me because you’re inexperienced,” Oliver put him down harshly. “You’ll find someone new. You’ll feel this way again with someone else, someone who can be there for you. And then you’ll understand that I was nothing in comparison.”

Elio was shocked at that. Not just shocked – he felt shattered by Oliver’s words. Was this his honest opinion of them? Did he think their time together had been nothing but a shallow, yet enjoyable fling? Did he really believe himself to be so replaceable? 

“Does this mean that you don’t love me back?” He asked in a small voice that was threatening to break. 

Oliver groaned, hiding his face behind both his hands.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” he muttered miserably. 

However, when he looked up to see the tears that were beginning to appear in the younger man’s eyes, he couldn’t help but take pity on him.

“No,” he said finally, answering Elio’s heartfelt question, “No, Elio, unfortunately that’s not what it means.”

 

XxX

 

When they made it back to the hotel, Oliver knew that it was Elio’s turn to ask him a favour. Sadly, he also knew that there continued to be a weird tension between them, seeing as their bickering back at the restaurant was never truly resolved. How could they possibly make love while everything was still so uncomfortable, so strained? Oliver didn’t even know for certain whether or not they were angry with each other, or with their situation alone. 

He decided to sit Elio down on the bed with him, hoping to talk it out.

“Are you okay, love?” He questioned tenderly as he stroked the boy’s face with the back of his fingers, wanting more than anything to bring Elio’s smile back and to make that devastating look of defeat go away. “Elio, I’m so sorry for the way I acted. I never meant to upset you.”

Elio allowed Oliver to stroke him, even leaning in as he welcomed these touches of reconciliation. However, it appeared that he was tired of talking. 

“It is what it is,” the boy replied cryptically, attempting at a casual shrug, “it’s like you said. Let’s not make this any harder on ourselves.”

Suddenly, Elio moved himself off the bed and crawled into Oliver’s lap instead, straddling the American’s thighs as he wrapped his arms around his neck and steadied himself there, ready for action. Oliver hadn’t seen this coming at all. He had thought that Elio would have been too distraught after he’d nearly burst out crying over dinner. 

“What are you doing?” Oliver whispered, though his hands began to run down Elio’s narrow back immediately, caressing him through his shirt and supporting him. “We don’t have to do this tonight, love. Perhaps we should talk instead.”

“No,” Elio begged, grinding in Oliver’s lap until he was practically rubbing their crotches together, “we’ve already talked enough. I just want you, Oliver. I want you while I still can…” 

“But, Elio… I’m worried I’ve hurt your feelings.”

“No,” the boy said again, shaking his head as he pressed himself against Oliver, “no, just – no more talking. I can't take it.”

Aiming to persuade his lover, Elio latched his mouth onto Oliver’s neck, sucking and licking at his skin in order to please him. He kissed Oliver so softly, feigning innocence, before he grew rougher and attempted to ravish him, just for the sake of showing him how little he cared about emotion, how he wasn’t going to let grief get in his way.

“Elio,” Oliver whispered faintly, trying his hardest to object though, really, he just wanted to close his eyes and go along with it. “Elio, are you sure about this? I feel like I should apologise first…”

“Don’t,” the boy warned him, nibbling at him with even more determination, “I know exactly what I want from you. And it isn’t an apology.”

“No?” Oliver couldn’t help but to chuckle. Elio was teasing and tempting him so relentlessly, it was starting to impress him. “What do you want from me, baby?” 

He had expected the answer to be something along the lines of ‘your cock.’ Or a charming ‘your dick up my ass.’ Instead, Elio took him by surprise again and responded by raising his hand to Oliver’s throat, letting his skinny fingers wrap around him loosely, careful not to add any pressure.

“This,” Elio whispered almost sensually, rutting against Oliver’s groin all over again. “I want this.”

“My throat?” Oliver didn’t understand at first. 

“No,” Elio smiled, squeezing against his windpipe ever so cautiously, just to make him realise. “This.”

Oliver raised his eyebrows as it dawned on him. 

“Choking,” he stated instead of asking this time. “You want to choke me, darling? You must be more angry with me than I thought.”

“No,” Elio giggled, pressing a sloppy kiss to his ear. Wrong again. “The other way around,” he corrected him, nibbling at his earlobe. “Your hand is so much bigger than mine. And stronger,” he hummed, “you’d be better at it.”

Oliver swallowed hard, wrapping an arm around Elio’s waist as he hesitated, unsure how to respond.

“You want me to choke you,” he uttered with astonishment. Though he wished he could deny it, he felt himself getting instantly hard. 

“While you fuck me,” Elio elaborated, writhing in Oliver’s lap as soon as he felt his erection. “Hard. So hard, baby…”

Oliver came close to drooling. 

However, there was a problem. Elio seemed to be conscious of the fact that, so far, Oliver had been the one to take chances, take things further, to experiment, to push them both to their limits. Oliver was slowly getting the feeling that Elio was merely trying to come up with something that he knew had been on Oliver’s mind before – something that Oliver hadn’t yet dared to ask for as he feared that it would be too unreasonable, too much to expect. Was Elio suggesting this now just to beat him to it? To appear brave and prove him wrong? Was he sick and tired of Oliver challenging him, deciding to finally challenge him back? 

Or, rather, was the problem the same that it had always been? That Elio was too love-struck, too caught up in his wish to pleasure Oliver, to offer the older man anything he could ever ask for, to worry about what he wanted for himself? 

Elio was supposed to ask for a favour that had sprung from his desire, and not Oliver’s. Could Oliver even be certain that he wanted this, that he wasn’t just trying to impress him? 

“Elio,” he spoke slowly, concentrating as he tried to channel some inner voice to tell him what was right and what was wrong, “I’m not sure that would be such a good idea. I think… I think it’s a little too much.” 

“Too much? What do you mean it’s too much?” The younger man stopped fidgeting in his lap. He was giving Oliver a curious look. “I thought we had agreed to comply with each other’s wishes.”

“We can still say no to each other if there’s something we don’t want to do, obviously,” Oliver disciplined him, moving his hand down to grip Elio’s hip. “I’m not saying we shouldn’t do anything, I just think that your suggestion is a little over the top.”

“No it isn’t,” Elio pouted, his hand clasping at Oliver’s shoulder. “You want this. I know you do. Why are you suddenly saying no to everything I suggest?”

“I’m not trying to deny you anything,” Oliver said, defending himself. “I’m not saying no just for the sake of being difficult. I think it’s a bad idea, is all.”

“Why?” Elio challenged him. “Why is it a bad idea?”

“There’s a number of reasons,” snorted the blond man. “For starters, you were sick last night. You might still be fragile and I have no intentions of hurting you.”

“I’m not fragile!” Elio exclaimed like a child. “I know what I can handle. It’s not about hurting me, Oliver, it’s about trying out new things!”

“For your sake or mine?” 

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Look, Elio…” Oliver exhaled, trying to clear his thoughts. “Earlier tonight, we were quarrelling. We’ve both been feeling upset, perhaps even irate. I don’t think tonight is right for something so… forceful.” 

“It’s not forceful if I’m asking you to do it,” countered the boy desperately. “Gosh, Oliver, it’s not like I’m asking you to try and kill me, it’s only a bit of strangulation…”

“Look, I’m not going to choke you in the middle of sex. Not after we’ve had a fight. It’s simple as that,” Oliver persisted, pushing Elio out of his lap so that he could remove himself from the bed.

Elio was close to losing his balance and falling down to the floor, but Oliver caught his arm and guided him back on top of the mattress. 

“So… Are you saying that if tonight isn’t right, maybe some other night could be?” Elio’s voice was hopeful and naïve. How could Oliver have the heart to disappoint him? 

“Maybe we could give it a go. Tomorrow night, I mean.” Oliver had started pacing across the room, back and forth. “If you’re feeling better, that is. I’m not promising you anything. It might not work for us at all.”

But Elio wasn’t paying attention to his maybes. 

“Oh Oliver, thank you!” He cried as he jumped off the bed and sprinted back into his arms. “I knew you’d come around! I promise you’ll like it!”

“Aren’t you the one who’s supposed to like it?” Oliver remarked, throwing an arm around the dark-haired boy. “You’re not just doing this for my pleasure, are you?”

“What? Of course not,” Elio pulled a mocking face, “just stop worrying, will you?” 

The two of them embraced each other, a moment of silence falling upon them. In the end, Oliver withdrew again, walking over to the window in order to look out at the dark sky, the swimming pool that had been abandoned after hours, beautifully lit up and centred in between the tall, lined-up hotel buildings. 

“Do you know what I miss?” He asked suddenly, tickled by an idea. 

The water.

 

XxX

 

It hadn’t been easy to sneak out of their room at midnight without making too much noise, without giggling and shushing at each other, taking turns as though sharing the mortification between them. It hadn’t been easy not getting caught, not getting seen by anyone.

By the time they’d made it to the pool, seeking out the lower-end where the lamps were out and a small bridge was stretching from one end to another, offering easy access over the water, the night was so dark and almost forebodingly silent. 

Elio had almost asked Oliver to return to their room before anything bad happened. 

They were both wearing their shorts and t-shirts, having deemed it too risky to sneak past the reception wearing nothing but swimming trunks. Before heading into the water, Oliver took Elio’s hand and helped him to lift the t-shirt over his head, not wanting it to get wet. Elio returned the favour slowly, holding his breath as he thought that even the faintest of noises would blow their cover.

They entered the water as though their very lives depended on discretion and caution. Gasping and bemoaning the cold temperature, Oliver took his sweet time, only lowering his body beneath the surface gradually, inch for inch. Elio, on the other hand, dived straight in, too scared to be seen if he lingered mid-way. 

They hid under the broad arch of the bridge, where the light reflected from the water and danced across the ceiling above their heads, mesmerising the two lovers and bringing their bodies closer.

It was like finding a secret ounce of Heaven; undiscovered and new, known to them alone.

Oliver pushed Elio backwards, letting him drift through the water until his back hit the edge of the basin. Then Oliver swam up to him, pressing against him with amusement as they wrapped their arms around each other and began to kiss one another smoothly, using only their lips. 

This was everything that Oliver had missed so dearly without even realising. The water – the calmness of it, the wetness, the soft, lulling motion of a wave, or a current, surging against his skin ever so mellifluously every time Elio stirred by his side. He had missed the smell of the water, on Elio’s skin, in Elio’s hair, and the taste of it as he kissed Elio’s lips, swallowing up a sip of it only to spit it out again. Sometimes they would even exchange half a mouthful of the water, letting it seep from one mouth into another without even realising its effect on them. The water enhanced the way that they would further taste each other, their spits mingling, resembling the very liquid surrounding them.

Oliver pushed both their heads lower down until the surface settled against their chins, swallowing up their bodies, offering them cover beneath the waves. He kissed Elio deeper this time, eager to savour his taste and the wetness of his tongue, memorising every sensation, every thrill of it. 

They had pushed down their shorts awkwardly while trying to keep them wrapped around their ankles, hanging on to their only piece of clothing in case they got caught and had to flee the scene instantly. Oliver had taken his cock out and begun to rub it against Elio’s belly, the resistance from the water softening his nudging until he was merely tickling him, causing the boy to moan.

He had taken Elio quietly, rocking into him with a little help from the movements of the water. The penetration had been easy and almost pain-free, the water being Elio’s only lubricant. Oliver held on to him the entire time, careful not to push him below the surface and drown him as he slammed against him and moved further inside. 

The back of Elio’s head banged against the underside of the concrete arch a couple of times. He barely seemed to register; with a soft groan, he rested his hands on Oliver’s backside, pulling him closer for friction and contact, letting him slip further into him. 

For a moment, it was like being back in B. 

It was like they had weeks instead of days, hours instead of seconds. 

It was like the rest of the world above the water’s surface had ceased to exist and all the people in it had been wiped out, or had withdrawn into other imaginary worlds, leading their own imagined lives. 

It was like they were the only ones remaining, the only ones having withstood the storm and made it through.

Everything they owned, everything they survived for, it was right here in each other’s arms.

Oliver smiled, resting his forehead against Elio’s. He liked it this way. He liked being the only two people in the world. 

“Of course I love you back,” whispered Oliver in a moment of bravery, and of letting go, and as soon as he’d said it, fresh tears were spilling from his eyes and blending in with the water that drank it all up, taking his pain away. “I love you so much, Elio, it’s scaring the shit out of me.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Five: Oliver makes a series of romantic gestures. After a day filled with romance, however, Elio longs for a night of roughness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry that it has taken me a full month to update. I have so many projects going on at the moment and I really wanted to take my time with this one.
> 
> Thank you all so much for the comments that I have had in the meantime, it really means a lot! <3 
> 
> This is my first fic in this fandom so I am over the moon to see that it's well received :))) 
> 
> *Small heads up* 
> 
> This chapter will contain consensual choking and breath-play.

At midday, Oliver had insisted that they rang Elio’s parents from a phone booth in the street. They had been walking through a market where they had bought some strawberries and some watermelon, smelled some pretty flowers and admired some beautiful paintings, after which they had continued to look through shop windows, occasionally stepping in and out of bookshops, music shops, even a souvenir shop or two. At one point, they had stopped outside a jewellers and only briefly discussed the nice watches, the rings of gold and silver, however, for the briefest of moments, Oliver had caught Elio staring at a golden neck chain, admiring its design, and even though he hadn’t said anything, it had been enough for him to know. 

He somehow always seemed to know what the younger man was thinking.

Not long after that, Oliver had spotted a phone booth further down the street and had guided Elio towards it.

“I promised your parents that you would call them at least once while you’re away,” the older man reminded him as he tugged gently at Elio’s arm, walking him through the crowds of people, “here, I’ve got some coins. You should phone them before they start to worry about you.”

“Now?” Elio pulled a surprised face, though he let Oliver steer him down to the bottom of the street, secretly loving the sensation of his hand on his arm, touching him while they were in public. “Can’t it wait? I’m pretty sure they know we’re fine. I’m not a baby anymore.”

“I know you’re not a baby anymore,” Oliver assured him in a mock-voice that you would, indeed, use to address an infant, “I just hate the idea of breaking a promise. Especially after your parents have been so generous with me.”

“Can’t we do it tonight?” Pleaded Elio, wanting Oliver all to himself. He feared that, at the sound of his mother’s voice, the enchantment would be broken and instead of enjoying his time in Rome with Oliver, he would be taken back to B., back to reality and every-day life. “I’m really thirsty, Oliver, I thought we could go for a drink instead?” 

“Later,” Oliver mocked him, marching straight towards the machine and picking up the phone. “I know that your parents have great faith in your independence, Elio, but think of poor Mafalda. She’s probably been worrying sick ever since we left. Just talk to them for five minutes. Tell them about the city, make them happy, and assure them that you’re safe. Afterwards, we’ll do anything you want.” 

“Anything?”

“Anything!”

Finally, Oliver had persuaded him. As he started to dial the numbers, he handed the phone over to Elio, urging him to get on with it. 

“You don’t want to say hi to them?” Elio asked him, pressing the phone against his ear, awaiting an answer.

“Not this time,” Oliver replied, backing suddenly away from him, “I’m going to take a quick walk up the street while you talk to them. Say hi from me.”

“What? Oliver, where’re you going?” Elio cried, baffled beyond words that the older man would leave him here. “Oliver!” 

“I’ll be right back,” he shouted, waving as he looked back over his shoulder, smiling and disappearing fast, “Right back!” 

Elio was going to call for him again, but was suddenly interrupted by the sound of his mother’s voice on the other end.

Oliver was gone for about fifteen minutes. In the end, Elio had started to truly worry seeing as there was still no sign of him. All he wanted to do was hang up the phone and go look for him, but his mother had passed him on to his father, telling Elio to tell him what he’d just told her, and after that, his father passed him on to Mafalda, who had even involved Anchise, seeing as he had happened to be around at the time. Everyone wanted him to tell them everything, everywhere he and Oliver had been, everything they’d seen, and everyone seemed to have a series of questions for him, in addition to what he’d just told them, even though he claimed to have included every single detail already. There wasn’t anything he’d left out, (of course there was) and yet, they would still find more things to ask him. 

Mafalda was in the middle of reminding him to stay hydrated, to eat well and to remember his sunscreen, basically repeating everything his mother had just told him, when Elio grew increasingly worried and had to pretend that he was running out of coins and had to hang up the phone.

“I’m sorry, Mafalda, this is it. I have to go now,” he said, talking over her urgently when she wouldn’t let him go. In his mind, he was screaming ‘I have to go look for Oliver. If Oliver doesn’t come back within the next ten seconds, I’m going to scream and I don’t want you, Mafalda, to hear it.’ He told her one last time, blurting the words out in Italian: “We’re fine, Mafalda, we’re having so much fun. Don’t worry about us. I’m going to hang up the phone now. I’ll see you back in B.” 

Before he heard what her reply was, he put the phone down and found himself gasping almost breathlessly. What was happening? Why had Oliver abandoned him? 

Why was he feeling so anxious? 

Elio spun around only to find him there, only ten feet away from the phone booth. Oliver walked straight towards him and yet, Elio couldn’t wait for him. He ran into the older man’s arms, acting like they had been separated for years instead of minutes. 

“Don’t do that to me again!” Elio cried, taken aback by his own overreaction. “I thought – I thought you had ditched me, Oliver!” 

Oliver held him tightly, taking the boy’s pain away immediately just by embracing that lanky, shaking body of his while he pressed a kissed to his hair, soothing him almost effortlessly. 

Oliver couldn’t help but to chuckle at the despair in Elio’s voice.

“What?” Elio’s head snapped upwards in order to give him a dazzled look. “What’s so funny? You walked out on me. You didn’t even tell me where you were going. You were away for so long, I didn’t know what to-“ Elio paused when Oliver pulled out a jewellery box from his pocket, handing it over to him. “Oh.” Elio stilled himself, suddenly speechless.

Oliver forced the box further into his hands when he felt like he couldn’t move.

Elio blushed instantly, feeling like a huge idiot.

“Oliver,” he uttered breathlessly, “you really didn’t have to…”

“Open it,” Oliver told him, palming his cheek gently as he smiled at the look on Elio’s face, “you know what it is. I know you do.”

“But… how?” Elio felt completely mesmerised. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so awestruck. So overwhelmed and grateful, though also humbled. Elio opened the box and saw the golden chain that he had admired so briefly, so subtly, in the shop window. He had only glanced over it ever so quickly seeing as he hadn’t wanted Oliver to catch him staring. He hadn’t wanted Oliver to think that he was expecting or even asking for something like this. “How did you know?” Elio asked him again, the amazement evident in his voice. 

“Really? After all this time, baby, you should know how I know things.” Oliver leaned in to kiss him. “Open it, darling. I wanna see you wear it.”

Elio lifted the lid off the box, his hands trembling. There it was. That beautiful, elegant neckchain that had caught his eye in the window, and which he hadn’t thought himself worthy enough to wear. And yet here it was, in his possession. Oliver had bought it for him. Oliver had made the sweetest and most generous gesture in order to make him happy. 

“Oliver, it’s beautiful.” Tears were now prickling in Elio’s eyes and for once, he didn’t care to hide it. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever felt so touched. 

“Almost as beautiful as you,” Oliver remarked with a whisper, sensing Elio’s emotional reaction. “Here, love. Let me.”

When Elio felt frozen to the spot, Oliver simply took the necklace out of the box and freed it from the wrapping paper. He then opened the chain in order to sling it around Elio’s neck delicately, encouraging him to wear it right away. Elio’s hand instantly went up to touch at the chain that was now being locked against his skin, Oliver’s gentle fingers touching him ever so softly. It was making him shudder with delight and Elio couldn’t contain his smile. 

“Oliver,” he gasped, wiping the tears away from his eyes, “I can’t believe you did this. It’s the best present I’ve ever received by anyone. Thank you.” 

Oliver’s hands were now pressing against Elio’s shoulders and the older man leaned in to whisper in his ear:

“You bought me that book back in B., which I loved, and which I loved you for. I just wanted to make you as happy as you made me that day.”

Elio spun around to face his lover, eager to throw his arms around him and show his gratitude. 

“Thank you, Oliver,” he spoke with excitement and thrill, reaching up to kiss the blond man’s lips, “thank you, thank you, thank you… I don’t deserve it.”

“Yes you do, and more.” Oliver returned his kisses, then paused. “You deserve only the best, Elio. There are so many things that I wish I could give you. I would give you the whole world if I could.”

Oliver was wiping off the remains of Elio’s tears when he caught himself getting carried away in an open and very much public space. People were busy, however, and walked past them rather than stopping to stare. It was a display of affection that, perhaps, Oliver wasn’t used to showing so openly, so candidly, but the good people of Rome were acting like it was nothing. Like they’d seen worse. 

Oliver let go of his lover and took a step back in order to admire the picture before him; the stunningly gorgeous picture that was Elio, smiling through his tears while he fidgeting with the chain, over-the-moon excited, acting like no one else had ever treated him this well before. 

Oliver would give anything to see that smile on the boy’s face every day for the rest of his life. 

“Oliver, you have no idea how happy you’ve made me,” he said, blushing, looking much too cute for his own good. 

Oliver responded by holding him close for another moment, silently and without speaking. For some reason, making Elio happy only made Oliver’s gut churn with pain and guilt. He felt cruel sooner than kind, mean instead of generous. 

Because whichever joy he’d brought to Elio’s eyes in order to make them shine with emotion, surely Oliver would have to take away again the minute he was destined to leave the boy behind. And, to him, it seemed that there was suddenly no kindness, no mercy in providing him with a gift if it was ever only going to be temporary.

 

XxX

 

Oliver kept his promise and let Elio decide what he wanted to do next. Elio insisted that he still wanted to stop for a drink. As they entered the nearest café together, Oliver opened the door for Elio and gestured for him to go first. 

Then he insisted on paying for Elio’s iced tea.

Then he pulled out Elio’s chair as they sat down by a table in the shade. 

Elio observed Oliver with a perplexed smile, appreciative, yet uncertain as to what to think of his gentleman-like behaviour. 

“What?” Oliver asked, catching Elio eyeing him with a subtle smirk. 

Elio’s fingers continued to play with the golden necklace as it rested against his collarbone, worshipping the chain as though it was Oliver’s name that had suddenly been tattooed onto his skin for everyone to read. 

“Nothing,” Elio shrugged, clearly grinning again, catching Oliver’s curiosity. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” God, Oliver sounded amused and paranoid at the same time.

“Like what?”

“If only I knew.”

Elio bit his lip, shrugging again. 

“I don’t know. I guess it’s just that…” He hesitated, believing himself unable to put it right. “It’s silly. It feels like we’re a… couple.”

“A couple?”

“A real couple. Here. Out here in public, I mean.”

Oliver was silent for a moment and his evident surprise rendered Elio nervous. 

“It’s just that I’ve never had anyone buying me jewellery before,” added the boy in order to fill out the gap that Oliver seemed to have created, “I’ve never had anyone paying for my drinks, or holding the door for me. I don’t know, I guess it’s just romantic.” He smiled again, dreamily this time. “You make me feel special, Oliver. I’ve never had this kind of attention from anyone before.”

Oliver reached out his hand across the table, touching Elio’s arm briefly. 

“You are special,” whispered the American, tenderly. “I mean it, Elio. I’m not just putting on a show for you.”

There was another silence. Then:

“I wish every day could be like this.” The words hadn’t been sad when they’d left Elio’s mouth. They had been hopeful. Full of amazement. “I never knew that it was possible to be as happy as I am right now. I almost can’t believe it.”

Oliver leaned back in his seat, observing the boy’s naïve blissfulness – and in that instant, his heart shattered into a thousand pieces, all fractions of his dividedness and inner self-loathing.

 

XxX 

 

Before they even made it back inside their hotel room that night, they found themselves being all over each other once again. Elio was walking with an opened bottle of wine in his hand, sipping from it every now and again, even as they had snuck their way past the hotel reception without getting caught. He was drinking from it again when, swiftly as they took a left down the hallway, Oliver took a look around him before suddenly pressing Elio up against the door to their room. Elio staggered and had very nearly dropped the bottle, but Oliver was quick to trap him in between the door and his own body, making sure to break his fall by pinning him up. 

Elio laughed and slurred drunkenly, bringing his face down to that broad shoulder of Oliver’s. 

“You’re so drunk,” Oliver had mocked him, raising his head by cupping his jaw, “let me have a taste, love.”

The American kissed his lips slowly, but greedily, making sure to drag his tongue all over the boy’s mouth, exploring every corner of it. He tasted the red wine mingled with Elio’s saliva, only to add his own into the sweet, fruity mixture. Elio let him roam around inside his mouth for a moment, humming as Oliver tongued him with determination. He began to wrap his thin arms around the older man’s back, clinging on to him like a baby koala, or a sloth, or whichever animal that tended to be clingy and downright needy. 

“Oliver…” He sighed, extending his exhalation with a moan as he let his mouth hang open even after they broke apart. “Fuck, yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes!”

Oliver smirked. 

“It’s time,” he whispered, yanking back the golden necklace around Elio’s neck, causing the chain to tighten against the boy’s windpipe. The movement was quick and unexpected, rendering Elio breathless for a moment. “I didn’t forget what you asked of me last night.”

Oliver gave him a significant look, driving Elio’s breath to hitch again. Was this really happening? Was Oliver actually giving in to Elio’s preposterous request? 

Elio swallowed hard as he seized Oliver’s hand with his own and brought it up to rest against his lean, delicate throat. They were both painfully unsubtle about their intentions, it seemed. 

“Take me inside,” he responded pleadingly, urging Oliver to keep his promise. 

“Take you inside, eh? That’s a new one, you naughty boy,” Oliver teased.

“You know what I meant. Take me inside our room. Now.” 

As soon as Oliver had dropped him down on top of the mattress, Elio found himself kneeling slightly awkwardly, uncertain of which position to take. As he stilled himself, Oliver took his immobility as a sign of anticipation. Getting himself behind Elio, the bigger man exposed his own eagerness by pressing his pelvis up against the other’s bum, rubbing against him until he was hard and ready. Slowly, Elio appeared to be bending forward until he was down on all four, stretching himself out like a feline in order to raise his ass and meet Oliver’s every movement. 

He was elegant like this. Subservient, but graceful as he invited his lover in. 

Either Oliver was getting carried away as a result or he simply didn’t know how else to give Elio what he had asked for. Before he had even pulled down the boy’s shorts or undressed himself, Oliver reached forward and wrapped a powerful hand around Elio’s throat, making his young lover gasp with surprise as he choked him from behind. 

There was a hint of resistance. Elio grew wary and seemed almost unwilling for a moment. 

“N-not… not like this,” he croaked, managing to swallow underneath Oliver’s grasp and Oliver could feel the bopping of his Adam’s apple against his fingers. “I w-want – I want you inside me first.”

Oliver let go without hesitation, frightened by the idea of forcing himself upon him. After Elio had recovered from his surprise, he rearranged himself in the bed and moved over to face his older lover, crawling into his lap faithfully. He wasn’t pulling away from Oliver, he was just taking his time.

“Let me finish my wine before we get started,” the boy whispered earnestly as he pressed his face against Oliver’s chest, “that way, I’ll feel braver than I am right now.”

 

XxX 

 

Oliver was pulling Elio’s hair as he moved inside him hard and passionately. Once he grew rougher and started slamming into him like he didn’t want the boy to be able to walk in the morning, Elio’s head began to bang against the headboard, causing him to hiss and moan and cry. 

This was what he had wanted all along. He wanted Oliver to take him so hard that he would be able to feel him even long after he had left for America, when there was no longer any trace of him except from the marks he’d leave on Elio’s body. That way, Elio would know that it had all been real. He would know that Oliver had left him a changed person.

Oliver’s hands found Elio’s narrow hips and right there, he grabbed him in order to hold him in place. It enabled him to thrust further inside. Elio gasped when he felt Oliver’s size stretching him open from deep within, touching and bruising his every wall; walls that Oliver broke through like they were paper-thin, making Elio wonder why he had needed them in the first place. He had never had any intention of keeping Oliver out. He invited him in and Oliver entered plenty, until Elio could practically feel him all the way up in his stomach. 

Oliver’s fingers were no gentler. They were digging into Elio’s skin with such force that he was destined to leave him with angry, nasty marks. Elio had expected it to hurt, but it didn’t. At the anti-climax of this realisation, he wanted more.

Sensing this, Oliver yanked at his curly locks again, taking advantage. Elio’s head was forced back instantly and as soon as his skinny neck had been exposed, it wasn’t hard to guess where this was going. Oliver began by simply ravishing it with his mouth. It was all biting, nibbling, sucking and kissing, everything at once. When Oliver’s warm mouth ghosted over his skin, Elio let his eyes flutter closed. The pleasure was sending him into a trance. He was in a state of ecstasy as he felt his senses sharpen and intensify. He breathed in the scent of Oliver until he was practically inhaling him like the oxygen that he survived on. 

Elio slackened and trembled underneath him for a moment and Oliver paused to make sure that he wasn’t having second thoughts.

Elio urged him to continue and soon enough, Oliver went savage on his ass. He released his inner beast, the one that had Elio shuddering with horror and delight all at once every time he caught a glimpse of it. Oliver was beautiful in his most feral state. He was sparkling and vibrant. He was dangerous, though not cruel. He understood how to push Elio to his limits without breaking him, without triggering any sense of remorse. 

In a sense, Oliver understood Elio’s body better than he did, it wasn’t just his mind. He somehow always knew what he wanted and what he needed; often two very interchangeable concepts.

Elio’s arms locked around Oliver’s back, bringing their bodies closer as he was keen to feel Oliver’s weight on top of him. Oliver responded by latching onto him and pinning him down as he pounded into him manically, completely without mercy. He grinded himself into Elio who could do nothing except lie there and take it, breathing heavily while his body was used for Oliver’s satisfaction. He was so small. So easy to prey on. 

Attempting to participate, or perhaps provoke, Elio wrapped his legs around Oliver’s hips and threw his head back as he grinned smugly, looking up into his older lover’s face.

Is that all you’ve got? 

Despite Oliver’s efforts, despite his ominous display of power and dominance, he was still able to smirk. Oh, he had the nerve. 

Oliver impaled him meanly and unexpectedly, causing Elio’s body to jolt upwards as a small cry escaped his lips. Catching the boy by surprise for the second time, Oliver slammed him back down against the mattress by suddenly seizing his throat in between both his hands. Squeezing lightly, Oliver watched the widening of Elio’s eyes when his breathing was instantly compromised. The boy jerked underneath him and gasped without having meant to. The sound had once again escaped him without Elio having meant to give away his own helplessness. Even though he had known what was in store for him, Oliver had managed to catch him off-guard and as a result, his green, youthful eyes filled with alarm.

It was very much a biological reaction that he couldn’t control. Though he knew that, truthfully, there was no danger, his body couldn’t seem to catch up with his mind. The panic was building up inside his chest and it was pure instinct. The confinement around his throat and the pressure against his windpipe was something so unfamiliar that by impulse, Elio had very nearly clawed back at Oliver’s hand in order to make him let go.

He needed several moments in order to adapt. When, finally, he was able to draw in a shaky, laboured breath without panicking further, Oliver leaned in over him and whispered:

“Look at you. You’re perhaps not as brave as you thought you’d be?” Taunting him, Oliver reached down and licked Elio’s face, enjoying his supremacy. Elio whimpered, though Oliver’s teasing made him want to toughen up and harden so that he could prove him wrong. Little by little, Elio let his eyes close shut in order to erase all trace of dread in them. Swallowing hard against Oliver’s large, mannish hands, he shivered once before forcing another smile. He didn’t trust himself to speak. He was certain that if he did, he would choke and embarrass himself. “What’s that?” Oliver mocked him again, though Elio could tell that he was actually relieved by his response. “You’re still finding it funny, are you? Do I have to show you how serious I am? Is that what it takes?”

Elio didn’t reply. Instead, he maintained Oliver’s gaze calmly and without blinking. He wasn’t scared.

“Good,” Oliver decided. “You want to do this the hard way. I like your spirit. Listen to me carefully, darling…”

Oliver paused to ram himself into the boy’s struggling body and Elio whined involuntarily, arching his back and making Oliver throw himself down on top of him in order to keep him in place. 

“This is what’s going to happen,” Oliver breathed heavily in Elio’s face, his lips ghosting closer against the other’s jawline, “next thing I’m gonna do, I’m gonna close your windpipe completely. And when I say close it, I mean close it. You won’t be able to wheeze like you’re doing right now. Your oxygen supply will be cut off, do you understand? I will be in control of your breathing, you will only be allowed to breathe when I want you to breathe. You are going to have to obey my rules if you want me to reward you.”

Oliver’s hands around his throat continued to hold Elio still while he bowed down to kiss him possessively. Elio fell for it immediately. Relaxing underneath Oliver’s body as his every kiss was tickling the insides of his stomach, Elio sighed blissfully, feeling loved and oddly protected by Oliver’s affections. 

Oliver made him snap back to reality a little too soon.

“Now, this is how you are going to obey me, love,” Oliver spoke as he withdrew from his mouth. “I will keep fucking you as I like. I will close my hand around your throat and I will keep you from breathing. If you want me to let go, however, all you have to do is come. Did you hear this? This is the most important part. I will not be letting you go until you come for me. Remember that. Oh yeah, and one more thing. You can’t use your hands. If I catch you cheating, you’ll be sorry, do you understand? Don’t touch yourself. I’ll do all the work for you, baby.”

Elio felt himself hesitate again, troubled by the idea of failing to comply with Oliver’s demands. He didn’t trust himself to have the willpower, the focus. And yet, he didn’t have much choice. This was a game that he had initiated and having agreed to do it, this, apparently, was Oliver’s only condition. 

Elio found himself nodding carefully as Oliver repeated:

“Understood?”

Yes. Obviously.

Elio rolled his eyes at him and Oliver nearly chuckled with endearment. However, now was not the time to go soft. 

“Good boy. Che bravo cucciolino!” Oliver groaned in his ear, moving inside him again.

This had Elio giggling before he could even stop himself.

“Idiot,” he croaked, his voice disappearing on him fast, though he could never withstand the opportunity to mock the older man. “You’re only supposed to use that phrase for dogs… I thought you said… your Italian was great.”

“Shut up,” Oliver hit back, realising his faulty translation. “You’re being too smug for your own good. Did you know that?”

Oliver tightened his hold on his throat, though he didn’t close Elio’s windpipe just yet. Elio understood the warning, forcing the smile off his face. 

“Oliver…” He whispered, sensing a hint of reluctance in the other. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Oliver whispered, his voice suddenly tender and sincere. He looked down into the boy’s face for a moment, savouring their closeness, the anticipation.

Elio looked like he wanted to say something in return, but Oliver never let him. 

Penetrating him hard enough to bruise against his prostate, Oliver caught Elio jolting, opening his mouth to either gasp or scream. Before he could even utter a sound, Oliver’s thumbs pressed against his windpipe so firmly that Elio’s voice died in the back of his throat and he never managed to take in that breath of air he was going to need within seconds. Elio’s reflexes kicked in again and his eyes snapped open as his limbs began to struggle and fight back. Placing both hands on top of Oliver’s grip, Elio was torn between wanting to pull Oliver’s hands off of him, even if it meant slapping or scratching at them until they bled, and between his desire to overcome his bodily instincts and simply lie back and comply with his lack of control. 

He, of course, chose the latter, even though it took him forever to convince his own body to relax. The pressure around his throat was intense and so much harder to adjust to than Elio had expected. Almost immediately, he felt the veins throbbing in his forehead and behind both his eyes, causing him to wonder if his head was going to explode if he let this continue for long enough. He felt like his Adam’s apple was getting crushed. He felt like his skin was on fire and his blood almost boiling hot. He wanted to retch. He was actually feeling nauseous at first, though this was something that he would never care to admit to Oliver. He suddenly couldn’t tell if he was being choked by Oliver’s hands or by his own deceiving body that had decided to make things so much harder on him. 

Elio’s mouth was left half-open as he never gave up on his attempt to draw in a breath of air. His body wouldn’t accept the fact that he couldn’t. The deprivation of oxygen wasn’t a natural or very comforting sensation. 

This was a struggle, right from the beginning.

After a few more moments, Elio’s hands slackened and he forced himself to let go of Oliver’s grasp. He wanted to chase the real experience; he wanted to surrender and fall utterly submissive in between Oliver’s hands. He was his to command and to dominate. He was going to give in to Oliver’s every request and instruction. If Oliver didn’t want him to breathe, Elio would happily suffocate in order to demonstrate his loyalty and his trust in him. 

There was nothing that Oliver could do to make him afraid. He never wanted to resist Oliver’s body. Never. 

Oliver kept silent, studying Elio’s face in utter fascination. The boy underneath him was so obviously in pain and yet, Elio was so quick to accept it. There was no indication of him asking Oliver to go easy on him. He welcomed the challenge. He was going to pass the test with flying colours. He was going to show Oliver what he was made of. 

Oliver immediately regretted ever questioning his lover’s bravery. Of course Elio was brave. He was so fucking brave, Oliver felt like a coward in comparison. He wanted to let go. He didn’t want to see him hurting, especially not if he was the cause of it. He didn’t have the guts like Elio did. Though he didn’t show it, the idea of causing Elio harm was now terrifying him out of his mind. Oliver was never meant to have this power over him, it wasn’t fair. 

How could Elio possibly trust him with his own life? It was dangerous. 

Oliver was dangerous.

Dangerous for getting so turned on by his lover’s ordeal. Dangerous for squeezing against his throat even harder. Dangerous for keeping his own thoughts hidden while he continued to asphyxiate him. Dangerous for not even pulling out of him. 

Oliver continued to fuck him like this was no big deal. How could he possibly think that smothering this innocent, young boy and asking him to orgasm from it in return, was acceptable? Was it even possible for Elio to gain pleasure from this? If Elio never reached climax, would Oliver even know when to stop himself? 

Detecting Elio’s physical discomfort, Oliver decided to occupy his mind more effectively in order to make him forget about his aching. He sped up the pace, slamming further inside Elio and doing it just the way that he knew the boy liked it. He was now desperate to pleasure him. He needed to make him happy and not regretful. He would hate himself if Elio grew to despise his actions. 

Oliver’s eager hips spread Elio’s legs further apart and he went wild on him as he slapped their bodies together and drove himself in balls-deep. He grinded into Elio hard and fast, making the slim boy feel occupied and almost impossibly full. 

Finally, a positively pleasant reaction. 

Elio threw his head back as he produced a series of glottal noises; noises that were trapped and stifled and would never leave his throat, but they were there. Elio had attempted to moan. His body was reacting, letting Oliver know what he was doing to him. Here he was, under his spell again.

“You love it,” Oliver muttered evilly, pressing his mouth down to Elio’s ear, making it tickle. He had a feeling that he was trying to persuade himself just as much as he was hoping to speak the truth. “You love my over-sized dick. You love being fucked and split in two by me. You would do anything to see me satisfied, wouldn’t you?” 

Elio choked in response, so painfully eager to let him know that he agreed. 

His body was trembling. Hurting all over.

His erection was pressed against Oliver’s stomach, harder than ever. Oliver was almost surprised he hadn’t come already. 

But Oliver would soon learn the full extent of Elio’s torment.

Elio’s vision had started blurring around the edges. His chest was stinging as he heaved for air that he wasn’t receiving. It hurt so bad, but at the same time, it spurred him on. His brain had started to work ever so slowly at the lack of oxygen, it seemed that he was no longer fully aware of anything. His mind was a haze and it was making it so much easier for him to deal with his anguish and with the fact that he was so close to breaking down. His brain was numbing out all fear and rationality, making Elio neglect the way that his body convulsed and protested underneath Oliver’s hold. His instincts were drowning out and no longer screaming at him to fight against it. He felt deaf. Deaf was good. It kept his baffled mind undisturbed and unchallenged. The world around him could no longer reach him and manipulate with his thoughts. 

The loss of his vision was a warning sign that he was now happy to overlook. Oliver’s thumbs were crushing against his windpipe, but Elio found himself smiling dizzily. For weeks now, he had philosophised about the pleasure of pain and about the sweetness of a sting called heart-break. His brain would no longer separate the pain from the pleasure and stupidly, he decided that he had found great wisdom in nursing both equally. It had all become a messy mixture of everything he had ever felt; from hurt to flattered, to happy, to thrilled, then back to sad and broken, back to anxious, desperate and eventually, crazy lustful and in love. 

Oliver had touched every single one of these emotions and Elio would carry them with him for all eternity, because they were inarguably part of him. As long as he kept from denying his feelings, he would carry Oliver with him until his dying day. Even if Oliver was to die before him, the smallest, most precious piece of him would still be kept alive inside Elio, not just within his mind, but in his every tear and every smile. 

He hoped to one day tell Oliver the good news; that Elio had found a way to promise him immortality, but for now, his troubled mind longed to switch off.

He had no idea what was going to happen if he went another minute without oxygen. He had never before held his breath for this long. He had never gone blind or deaf before. He had never zoned out like this, to the point of feeling like his mind was no longer attached to his body. 

In a sense, it made everything easier. It prevented him from worrying when he could no longer feel his feet, when he realised that his fingers had turned ice-cold. 

Oliver’s touch felt so sweet, even as his fingers continued to damage his skin. Oliver’s warmth was rolling over him as Elio was losing his own. He was so cold, his body barely seemed alive anymore. Oliver’s hot, sweaty skin on top of his own was such a bizarre contrast, it made Elio feel like the two of them were no longer part of the same world.

Oliver frowned as Elio shuddered intensely underneath him without Elio even noticing what was happening. Elio’s arms remained limply by his side, having given up. He was twitching and convulsing again, though this was not done in protest. Elio no longer controlled any part of his body, it couldn’t be helped. But at the same time, Oliver couldn’t pretend that he hadn’t seen it. 

Was Elio no longer able to take pleasure from this? Had his body started to shut down before he had had any chance to give Oliver a signal, asking him to stop? 

Elio retched quietly, making it sound like Oliver was squeezing the very life out of him. He shook again. Then he remained still.

“Are you going to be a good boy and come for me, or do I need to fuck you harder?” Oliver groaned in order to spur his lover on, hoping that Elio would keep focus and get back on track. He needed to keep him aroused. He needed him to want this. Elio’s erection was still pressing against him, so he had to be doing something right. “Elio,” Oliver exhaled, trying to mask the concern in his voice, “you’re wasting precious time, baby. I need you to come for me. I need you to come for me right now. Now, sweetheart.”

Elio made a serious choking noise, letting Oliver know that he was still conscious. When Oliver continued to move around inside him and pound him with brutal force, instead of coming, Elio’s body did an ugly spasm. 

Oliver was instantly worried.

“Come for me,” he whispered tensely, pleading when he believed that Elio’s body couldn’t withstand the pressure for much longer. “Please, baby. Come for me and make me proud. I know you can do it. I – I need you to do it.”

‘Don’t make me kill you, Elio. Please, please let me know that you’re okay.’

Elio choked and retched again, and in a desperate attempt to stall everything, Oliver bowed down and kissed him forcefully, bringing all the passion and adoration that he could muster into the kiss. Elio’s lips were cold, looking impossibly pale, almost blue. Oliver’s lips were burning hot as they crashed against his, trying to warm them up and bring the boy back to life. 

When Oliver kissed him again, the eyes rolled back in Elio’s head, causing Oliver to nearly scream. The boy then produced a calm sound, like a peaceful sigh even though he didn’t have any air left to exhale. 

When Oliver was on the brink of panicking, tempted to let go of his throat and break his own rules, Elio came unexpectedly.

Oliver hadn’t even been fucking him at full-speed. It was the kiss that did it. Elio ejaculated all over his and Oliver’s stomachs and as soon as he did, his small body stopped cramping and shaking, only to relax and become utterly motionless.

Oliver released his throat immediately, wincing at the red marks that were already showing on his skin, adapting the shape of Oliver’s fingerprints. Oliver gasped loudly, thankful – oh, so thankful that Elio had allowed him to go all the way. He had been so close for so long now, Oliver came with a dramatic cry, tensing all over, clenching his butt-cheeks together as he drove into Elio as far as he could penetrate him, before feeling his muscles relax blissfully as he shot his load deep inside the boy’s ass. 

Oliver exhaled loudly and exhaustedly, letting himself collapse on top of the other. He was covered in sweat, it was beaming down his forehead, nearly trailing into his eyes. He wrapped his arms around Elio’s skinny body and had even started talking to him before he realised that he had never actually heard the sound of Elio gasping and drawing in rich amounts of much needed oxygen. Seized by fear, Oliver sat himself upright and hovered above his lover while looking into his face pleadingly.

Elio’s eyes had slowly fluttered closed, though his mouth remained open. Learning that Elio was now completely limp and unresponsive, Oliver pulled out of him and pressed his ear down to his chest, fretful and anxious and utterly unable to understand why he had been on board with this in the first place. 

It had been a bad idea. A horrible, selfish, terrible idea…

There was a heartbeat, but no sound of Elio inhaling. 

Oliver’s hands went up to his own hair and he pulled at it in pure desperation. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know anyone he could possibly explain this to. If he called for an ambulance now, he would surely get arrested. 

“Elio!” He shouted, moving off his lover so that he wasn’t straddling his waist anymore. His heart was skipping several beats in a row and his stomach was churning excruciatingly. If anything bad happened to Elio and it was his fault, Oliver would kill himself without a moment’s hesitation. He didn’t think that he could have possibly injured Elio’s windpipe. He thought that he had had control of the situation. “Elio, sweetheart, can you hear me?” 

Petrified out of his mind and running out of ideas, Oliver reached out his hand and slapped his lover across the face whilst crying out his name. 

At the sound of a mighty smack that landed against his pale cheek so much harder than Oliver had intended it to, Elio finally jolted upwards and gasped audibly. Oliver caught him in his arms immediately, pulling the boy’s face against his chest until he was cradled in his embrace, held upright protectively as Oliver believed this position to ease his breathing. 

“Thank God!”

‘Thank God, thank God, thank God, I can’t believe I almost killed him, Elio, forgive me, I am so, so sorry…’

Elio woke up smiling at him. 

“Oliver…”

Already his voice was raspy and hoarse, threatening to break. Elio tried to speak again, but fell into a nasty coughing fit that he was now struggling to breathe through. Elio fell against him weakly and Oliver absolutely lost it. 

“Elio!” He sobbed as he took him further into his arms and placed him in his lap, supporting him by wrapping an arm around his back. “Elio, I am so sorry! I – I don’t know how this happened! Are you okay? How are you feeling?” 

Elio raised a hand in order to check his neck first thing. He didn’t say anything, but Oliver could tell from his expression that he was in pain. Then he broke out laughing. Oliver couldn’t believe it. 

He looked up into Oliver’s face, wearing a dizzy, sickly expression.

“Thanks,” he rasped, smirking coyly.

Oliver took a couple of deep breaths, stilling himself.

“Elio,” he fussed, sounding like he was close to suffering a nervous breakdown, “has the lack of oxygen gone to your head? What on earth are you thanking me for? I made you pass out, you should be yelling at me!” 

“No, no, no…” Elio shushed him, giggling drunkenly. “I love you, Oliver. I love you, I love you, I love you…”

Elio reached for him with weak hands, eager to bring him closer to him. Oliver pressed himself against him in order to spare Elio the extra effort.

“I – I hurt you,” Oliver lamented shamefully, looking into his lover’s pale face.

“I wanted you to hurt me,” Elio responded with brutal honesty. “And now… You can heal me again.”

He smirked when he knotted his fingers into Oliver’s golden hair and forced his head further down, until he was able to kiss him. From the looks of it, now it was his turn to act rough. 

Oliver pulled back in order to study Elio’s bruises again. He feared there would be swelling. He feared that he ought to take Elio to see a doctor. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” Elio wheezed, coughing again. He sounded sick. Winded. “Don’t. It feels good. I love the feeling… Let me have it.”

Oliver hadn’t expected him to have any strength left, but Elio seemed determined to take him by surprise. Suddenly, the boy withdrew from his embrace and sat himself upright, only to then push Oliver down against the mattress until he was lying on his back.

Elio climbed on top of him and began to claw at his chest, after which he kissed Oliver’s skin and grinded in his lap. 

“Let me have it, let me have it, let me have it,” he begged, until he drove himself mad with longing.


End file.
